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* 


popular Stories. 

By AMY BROOKS. 

Each Beautifully Illustrated by the Author. 

THE RANDY BOOKS. 

FOUR VOLUMES READY. I2MO. CLOTH. STRIKING 
COVER DESIGN BY THE AUTHOR. 

RANDY’S SUMMER. Price . . . . $1.00 
RANDY’S WINTER. Price . . . . 1.00 
RANDY AND HER FRIENDS. Price 80 cents, net. 
RANDY AND PRUE. Price 80 cents, net. 


3for lounger IReabers. 

DOROTHY DAINTY SERIES. 

Large i2mo. Cloth. Cover Design by the Author. 
Set in large English type. Price 80 cents, net. 

DOROTHY DAINTY. DOROTHY’S PLAYMATES. 


A JOLLY CAT TALE. Large i2mo. Cloth. 

Profusely Illustrated. Price . . . $1.00 


































































































































■ 































St ’ 


Any3roo/es. 


■■_ ■**> 




Siie leaned against tiie old unused well, a gkaceful figure 

in the sunshine Page 1 





ftbe 1Rant>£ Boobs 


RANDY AND PRUE 


BY 


AMY BROOKS 


Author of “Randy’s Summer,” “Randy’s Winter,” “Randy 
and Her Friends,” “A Jolly Cat Tale,” “Dorothy 
Dainty,” “Dorothy’s Playmates” 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY THE AUTHOR 



BOSTON 

LEE AND SHEPARD 
1903 


Published in August 



vv> 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

JUN 22 1903 

Copy light Entry 

Ji/ # /y$3 

CLASS XXc. No. 

4o/i>sr 

COPY B. 


Copyright, 1903, by Lkb and Shepard 


All rights reserved 


Randy and Prue 


<<«« * ( f e 

• f i c 

I • * c • c 
e c r < 

i © tr f • C 














CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. A Morning Call, 7 

II. A Welcome Guest, 26 

III. An Enchanted Mill-Pond, ... 41 

IV. Randy in a New Role, .... 60 

V. Jabez Brimblecom Visits Cousin Sabriny, 81 

VI. The Burning op the Mill, ... 97 

VII. Reuben Jenks Entertains, . . . 116 

VIII. An Event in the Village, . . .141 

IX. October Days 165 

X. A Preliminary Hearing, . . . 188 

XI. A Country Wedding, .... 217 
XII. The Village Gossip, . . . .243 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

She leaned against the old unused well, a grace- 
ful figure in the sunshine . . . ( Frontispiece ) 1 

Jotham was near enough to see their eager faces, 42 
Phoebe was ready, and with quite a self-satisfied 

air she resumed her pose 67 

A silent group, they watched the illumined sky, 111 
“Well, Tommy, what is it?” questioned the 

parson 146 

With her little arms outstretched as if to screen 
him, she looked at Dan Marcy with flashing 
eyes 209 
























RANDY AND PRUE 


CHAPTER I 

A MORNING CALL 

The soft breeze whispered in the leaves 
overhead ; here and there a buttercup 
nodded in the grass, and in the garden the 
sunflowers raised their great heads, inviting 
the bees to give them a share of the homage 
paid the petunias and nasturtiums. 

Randy Weston watched the butterflies at 
play in the sun, and smiled when one 
gorgeous fellow poised upon a red petunia, 
which in the gentle breeze swayed like a 
fairy cradle. 

She leaned against the old unused well, 
a graceful figure in the sunshine, and “ an 
ornament ter the place,” as Jabez Brim- 
blecom remarked as he turned again to look 
at Randy, who was wholly unaware that he 
7 


8 


BANDY AND PRUE 


was passing. In her hand she held a letter, 
and a smile parted her red lips as she 
thought of the writer. 

“ Just three weeks to wait, and then she 
will be here, and mother will see that Nina 
Irwin is every bit as sweet as I have declared 
her to be. To think that a city girl should 
so eagerly anticipate a visit to our farm! 
Now I know that she cares for me truly, and 
her visit to us shall be, if possible, even more 
charming than she imagines.” 

“ Oh, Randy, Randy ! ” called a childish 
treble, “ have you written to the Nina girl 
yet? ” 

“ Why, no,” said Randy, “ I’ve only just 
received her letter.” 

Quite out of breath, Prue now stood be- 
side her sister, and looking eagerly up into 
her face she said: 

“ Well, when you do write, tell her Fll 
truly be her little sister while she’s here.” 

“ I’ll let you print it, and send it inclosed 
in my letter,” said Randy, as she drew Prue 
closer. 


A MORNING CALL 


9 


" Oh, oh, may I print it myself? Oh, I 
love you, Randy; you always let me do 
things.” 

Randy laughed merrily. 

“ I should think everyone ‘ lets you do 
things/ ” said she. “ Yesterday mother al- 
lowed you to water the plants in the gar- 
den, and you drowned some of them, I think. 
Father lets you drive Snowfoot until he sees 
that we are about to ride into the side of 
a house, or over a stone wall, and old Mrs. 
McLeod, when you run in to see her, lets you 
play with her knitting until you have 
dropped all of her stitches.” 

“ Now, Randy,” Prue exclaimed, “ those 
things did themselves. I drive just as 
straight as anybody does, but sometimes 
Snowfoot doesn’t know which way to go, 
and nobody could keep knitting-stitches on 
the needles. The needles is too slippery, 
that’s all.” 

Small wonder that Randy laughed at this 
unique explanation. 

“ Randy,” said Prue, her little face wear- 


10 RANDY AND PRUE 

ing a very serious expression, “ Kandy, 
those kittens of Tabby’s hasn’t any names 
yet, but I’m goin’ to christen ’em to-morrow, 
and I’ve just thought what to name ’em. 
I’m goin’ to call the gray and white one 
Fluffy. I think that will do for her, she’s 
so woolly, but the brindle one I shall name 
Orlando Steubenreiser, after that big man 
we saw at the mill last week. He’s so very 
big and splendid lookin’, and I want my 
kitten to be a monst’ous cat.” 

“ But that is a queer name for a little kit- 
ten,” said Randy, with difficulty hiding her 
mirth. 

“ No, ’t isn’t queer,” persisted Prue; “ the 
big man looked fine, and I shall name my 
kitten for him, and we must all call the kit- 
ten by it when we want it to come in.” 

“Well, if we do not get our tongues 
twisted in the effort, I think we shall be 
lucky,” said Randy. 

At the end of the long garden bed stood 
Mrs. Weston and Mrs. Hodgkins, engaged 
in animated conversation. 


A MORNING CALL 


11 


“ I tell ye, Mis’ Weston, she’s got as many 
whims as there’s seeds in one er them sun- 
flowers, an’ she’s ter spend the hull summer 
ter Mis’ Brimblecom’s. Why, whatever do 
ye think her last notion is?” queried Mrs. 
Hodgkins. 

“ But there, ye couldn’t guess in a month, 
so I’ll tell ye. Sabriny told Mis’ Brimble- 
com that rainwater ketched in a white 
chany bowl is nec’sary ter her complexion, 
an’ the last thunderstorm she fairly drove 
Jabez aout ter the corner er the haouse, an’ 
she stood at the winder a-watchin’ him 
while he held the bowl aout ter ketch the 
drops, an’ tried with the other hand ter keep 
his ambrill over his head. 

“ He’s awful ’fraid er thunder, bein’s he 
was struck once, an’ every time a big clap 
would come, he’d jump like a skittish hoss. 
Then Sabriny at the window would squeal : 

“ ‘ Oh, Jabez, Jabez ! You’re a-spillin’ 
the water,’ while Mis’ Brimblecom, at the 
door, would holler: 

“ c Naow, Jabez, keep that ambrill over yer 


RANDY AND PRUE 


12 

head unless ye hanker fer a spell er rlieu- 
matiz,’ until Mr. Brimblecom was ’baout 
wild. He stood it like a major until a tre- 
menjous thunderclap made him jump up 
straight, an’ in his fright daown went the 
bowl. 

“ ‘ Oh, you’ve spilled all the water you’d 
ketched,’ said Sabriny, an’ fer once Mis’ 
Brimblecom lost her patience. 

“ ‘ More like he’s broke my bran’ new 
bowl,’ said she. Jabez was even madder. 

“ ‘ Jiminy ginger ! ’ says he, i I’m clean 
petered aout, an’ I do’no’s I’d a cared ef I’d 
smashed two bowls.’ An’ he stamped inter 
the haous§ an’ took daown the almanic ter 
see when ter expect fair weather, or ter let 
’em see ’t he wasn’t in er mood fer talkin’.” 

“ Why didn’t they dip some water from 
the rainwater barrel? ” asked Mrs. Weston; 
“ there is always one standin’ at the corner.” 

“An’ no wonder ye ask,” replied Mrs. 
Hodgkins, “ but the fact is, that Sabriny 
wouldn’t have no water that came from a 
spaout. She declared ’twas contam’nated. 


A MORNING CALL 


13 


and said she must have it ketched straight 
from the heavens. All er Jabez’s folks, as 
fur back as he remembers, has reg’larly riz 
at five o’clock, but Sabriny says that durin’ 
her stay she won’t be able ter git up till 
nine. Ain’t it outrageous? I tell Mis’ 
Brimblecom I wouldn’t stand it, even 
’lowin’ that she is Jabez’s cousin.” 

“ It certainly does make it hard fer Jabez 
and his wife,” said Mrs. Weston. 

“ Sabriny started aout the other day ter 
make a few calls,” Mrs. Hodgkins con- 
tinued. “ As she went aout the door she 
looked back, an’ says she, ‘ I expect to be 
back in time ter have dinner at six,’ an’ 
with that she went daown the path as if she 
owned the place. She wants all the win- 
ders shet, no matter haow hot the night is, 
because she says she’s subjic ter pneumony, 
an’ every week, on bakin’ day, she says the 
kitchin fire makes her reel faint. Mis’ 
Brimblecom spoke her mind the last time 
Sabriny complained er the fire. 

“ ‘ Sabriny,’ says she, ‘ I’m thinkin’ ye’d 


14 


RANDY AND DRUE 


feel a deal fainter ef I should give up cookin’ 
an’ put aout the fire/ an’ Sabriny kept kind 
er still after that, fer she’s what ye might 
call a paowerful eater, ef she does pertend 
ter bein’ delicate. She says naow, that the 
air up here is a,-doin’ her so much good that 
she may decide ter stay inter the fall, an’ 
Jabez says that’s more discouragin’ than a 
plague er grasshoppers. 

“ He says he can fight bugs with a club 
er with pizen, but there ain’t no doin’ any- 
thing ter rid the farm er Sabriny ef she’s 
detarmined ter stay. 

“ Last week Sabriny came aout in a new 
gaown. She called it a fea-gaown, but I 
do’no why, fer ’t wa’n’t tea-colored, ’twas 
’baout the color er laylocks ; she didn’t wear 
it ter drink tea in, fer they don’t hey tea er 
supper at Jabez’s naow. Sabriny told Mis’ 
Brimblecom that she’d have ter have dinner 
at six. Jabez has dinner at twelve, ’cause 
he an’ the farm-hands is hungry at that time, 
an’ Sabriny seems ter be ready too, so while 
she’s a-tellin’ haow delicate she is, she’s 


A MORNING CALL 15 

a-eatin’ three hearty meals a day, with good- 
ness knows haow many lunches between. 

“ She has ter have an egg before break- 
fast ter keep up her strength, an’ a glass er 
cream at bedtime ter make her sleep, an’ 
cookies an’ doughnuts between meals ter 
pervent her faintin’, an’ Jabez says he some- 
times thinks er buildin’ on an ell ter make 
room fer a new larder. 

“ He says she’s more expensive ter keep 
than any hearty farm-hand he ever see, an’ 
says that ef we hear that his farm is mort- 
gaged again we’ll all know haow it hap- 
pened. He’s baound ter hev his little joke 
about it, an’ Mis’ Brimblecom tries ter make 
the best on’t, but it’s pretty hard ter work 
fer Sabriny, an’ she not willin’ ter lift her 
finger ter help. Wal, she ain’t a-visitin’ me, 
so I needn’t take on so, but I think er deal 
er Mis’ Brimblecom an’ Jabez, an’ I’m sorry 
fer ’em.” 

“ It makes hard work fer Mrs. Brimble- 
com,” said Mrs. Weston, “ and she hasn’t a 
daughter like Randy ter help her. It seems 


16 


BANDY AND PRUE 


as if Kandy could not do enough fer me 
since she came home. Spendin’ all last 
winter in the city at Miss Dayton’s fine 
house seems only ter have made her more 
fond of her own home, an’ she an’ Prue are 
just inseparable. 

“ Ef Randy sweeps, little Prue takes the 
duster; when Randy wipes dishes, Prue 
runs to put them away. She’s willin’ ter 
do anything that ’ll let her be close ter 
Randy. Jest see them there by the old well, 
Mis’ Hodgkins; they’re blessings, ef I do 
say it.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins turned, and shading her 
eyes with her hand, looked fixedly at the two 
figures, upon which the sunlight lovingly 
rested. 

Prue was gayly chattering, while Randy 
was in the act of fastening a cluster of but- 
tercups securely among her little sister’s 
curls. 

There were tears in Mrs. Hodgkins’ eyes 
as she turned to speak. 

“ I hope they’ll always be as lovin’ as they 


A MORNING CALL 


17 


be naow. Time changes the dispositions of 
some, an’ some it doesn’t, but seems ’s if 
Randy an’ Prue would remain lovin’ 
always.” 

“ I trust — oh, I know — that they will,” 
said the mother. “ Randy is steadfast, an’ 
Prue is dingin’. They’ll always love each 
other. ’Twill be more an’ more — not less.” 

“ I believe ye,” said Mrs. Hodgkins. 
“ Wal, I’ve spent a lot er time with ye this 
mornin’, Mis’ Weston, an’ who’s more neigh- 
borly ’n I be? My work’s standin’ still, an’ 
so’s yourn, so I’ll be goin’, jist askin’ ye ter 
run in when ye can,” and having given this 
invitation, she hastened toward home, stop- 
ping at Mrs. Brimblecom’s on the way to 
hear of any new freak which her visitor 
might have exhibited. 

Mrs. Hodgkins was a good woman, and 
also a persistent gatherer and dispenser of 
news, and she lost no opportunity to glean 
a fragment of gossip, which in all haste she 
repeated to the first person she chanced to 
meet. 


18 BANDY AND PRUE 

WEen she reached Mrs. Brimblecom’s 
door she found the visitor, Mrs. Sabriny 
Boardman, arrayed in a be-ruffled pink mus- 
lin, and rocking luxuriously in a large splint 
chair in the dooryard. She was wielding a 
fan, and as Mrs. Hodgkins bade her “ good- 
morning” she sighed, and in a lazy drawl 
complained of the heat. 

“ Yes, it’s hot,” Mrs. Hodgkins agreed, 
“ but I guess Mis’ Brimblecom feels it 
more ’n you do, bein’s she’s ironin’ in the 
kitchen.” 

“ Oh, the kitchen is insufferably hot,” 
Mrs. Boardman replied, “ but Jabez’s wife’s 
used to such work, and that makes a dif- 
ference.” 

This was too much for Mrs. Hodgkins’ 
patience. 

“ Wal, of all things ! ” she ejaculated, her 
face plainly showing her disgust. “ ’Tain’t 
so many years ago, Mis’ Boardman, sence ye 
was Sabriny Brimblecom, an’ many’s the 
time I’ve known ye ter work at the churn 
the hull forenoon, help yer aunt that ye 


A MORNING CALL 


19 


lived with git dinner fer twelve hired men, 
an’ set daown an’ take a hand at a big bas- 
ketful er mendin’ that kept ye busy ’til bed- 
time. 

“ Then up ye’d git at half-past four the 
next mornin’, an’ mebbe it would be bakin’ 
day, an’ mebbe it would be sweepin’, but 
whatever ’twas,’twas work , an’ ye well know 
haow ter do it, an’ I must say, I’m riled ter 
hev yer come back here ter visit an’ represent 
ter us that ye don’t hev the fust idee haow 
ter do the work that ye’ve alius done ’long 
with the rest of us. 

“ Ef ye’ve done all ye want ter of it, I 
don’t feel cause ter blame ye, fer I guess 
most er the women hereabaouts could be 
contented with a leetle less work; but ye 
know haow ter do it — ye needn’t say ye 
don’t.” 

“ I think ye’re rather blunt,” whined 
Sabriny. 

“ Wal, I didn’t mean ter be hard on ye, 
but I will call a spade a spade, an’ I ain’t 
called upon ter b’lieve ye’ve fergot haow ter 


20 BANDY AND FREE 

work on er farm the minute ye see Bos- 
ton.” 

Sabriny declared herself to be “ all up- 
set,” and Mrs. Hodgkins, after dryly remark- 
ing, “ Wal, Fll leave ye ter collect yerself,” 
walked into the kitchen to condole with Mrs. 
Brimblecom. 

Yes, she was ironing as her visitor had 
said, but her mind was not upon her work, 
and her iron moved mechanically back and 
forth across a pillow-case, regardless that 
it was already smooth. 

“ Wal, Mis’ Hodgkins, I’m glad ter see ye. 
My mind’s all took up with Deacon Law- 
ton’s new stoop. 

“ What! ye haven’t heerd ’baout it? Wal, 
I guess this is the only time I ever heared a 
piece er news fust, 

“ Yes, the deacon’s goin’ ter hev a new 
stoop ter his house, an’ when that’s done the 
hull haouse ’ll be painted yaller. There’s 
goin’ ter be four steps up ter the stoop an’ 
a railin’ raound it. Some say it’s kind er 
worldly in the deacon ter fix up so, but I 


A MORNING CALL 


21 


do’no why a deacon shouldn’t hev a good- 
lookin’ haouse as well as anyone else,” said 
Mrs. Brimblecom. 

“ As long’s he’s got money ’nough ter pay 
fer it, I do’no why he shouldn’t hev it,” said 
Mrs. Hodgkins ; “ but do ye mean a stoop, 
or a verandy? ” 

“ Wal, I do’no,” answered Mrs. Brimble- 
com, an expression of doubt in her eyes. 

“ The deacon’s wife calls it a stoop, an’ 
anyw T ay, I’ll say this, that whatever ’tis, it’s 
ter hev a railin’ raound it, an’ they do say 
that Deacon Lawton’s haouse ’ll be a thing 
wuth travelin’ fer miles ter see when he 
gits it fixed.” 

Then, moving nearer, she whispered, “ Ye 
didn’t vex Sabriny, did ye? I thought she 
looked kind er put aout when I glanced that 
way jist naow.” 

“ Be ye ’fraid er givin’ ’fense? ” asked 
Mrs. Hodgkins, in surprise. 

“ I ain’t exactly ’fraid” Mrs. Brimble- 
com answered, “ but she’s what ye call ‘ dif- 
ficult,’ an’ ’fendin her would make it wuss. 


22 RANDY AND PRUE 

She’s got her good p’ints like the rest of us. 

She’s good-natured.” 

“ Good-natured !” muttered Mrs. Hodg- 
kins; “wal, I should think she might be, 
with you ’n Jabez a- waitin’ on her by inches. 
I fairly expect ter run in some day an’ ketch 
ye a-feedin’ her with a spoon, ter save her 
the effort of feedin’ herself.” 

“ Wal, I don’t want ter say anything 
whilst she’s my visitor,” was the gentle an- 
swer, “ but I shan’t invite a batch er com- 
p’ny ter ’rive the minute she departs fer fear 
I’ll be lonesome, fer I’m so tired that I think 
Jabez an’ I could git erlong fer a month 
without another soul ter speak ter.” 

Just at this point Sabriny, remarking 
that the sun was too high for comfort, en- 
tered the room and immediately complained 
of the heat, and Mrs. Hodgkins, curtly 
saying “ I’ll bid ye good-mornin’,” hurried 
away, her heart filled with disgust for the 
selfish visitor, and with a deal of sympathy 
for Mrs. Brimblecom. 

As she hastened along the dusty road her 


A MORNING CALL 


23 


mind was filled with a variety of thoughts, 
and when at the cross-roads she met her 
neighbor, Mrs. Jenks, she was about to tell 
her of her exasperation with Jabez Brimble- 
com’s guest, but Mrs. Jenks was anxious to 
tell what was uppermost in her mind, and 
as she chanced to say the first word, she held 
her position as speaker. 

“ There’s a story goin’ raound taown that 
Barnes’ store is ter hev a big, new winder 
in place er the old one, an’ ye know Janie 
Clifton has had her dressmakin’ an’ mil’nery 
over the store fer a year? Wal, they say 
Barnes is goin’ ter show some er Janie’s hats 
an’ bunnits in the new winder on er wax 
figger. Don’t that beat all ! I don’t buy my 
summer bunnit ’til I see that display, no 
matter haow long I hev ter wait. 

“ An’ let me tell ye the greatest yet! Ye 
know that old, dilap’dated hoss-trough by 
the wilier tree in the square? Of course ye 
do, an’ so does anybody fer miles raound. 
Wal, old Sandy McLeod has given a stun 
trough, land knows what it ’ll cost, an’ it’s 


24 RANDY AND PRUE 

ter be set in place in time fer the Fourth 
er July; kinder celebratin’ like. Naow, I 
call that generous. The old wooden trough 
has been there fer years, waterlogged an’ 
moss-covered, an’ nobody’s thought er placin’ 
a better one. What’s anybody’s job isn’t 
apt ter be ’tended to, an’ I say again that 
Sandy McLeod’s a fine old man ter give us 
the new trough of his own accord. 

“ Nobody would er thought of hintin’ fer 
it, but he doesn’t wait fer hints, save those 
his dear old wife gives him. What a lovin’ 
old couple they be! I never see a sweeter 
face than Margaret McLeod’s, an’ as fer 
Sandy, a sight er his twinklin’ eyes would 
make the crabbedest critter smile.” 

“ Wal, Mis’ Jenks, I guess anyone will 
agree with ye, fer the McLeods are mighty 
pop’lar in the taown, an’ speakin’ fer myself, 
I think the world er them. But the news ye 
had ter tell beats anything. 

“ A mil’nery show, an’ a new hoss-trough ! 
I wonder what next? ” said Mrs. Hodgkins, 
and she mentally resolved that immediately 


A MORNING CALL 25 

after dinner the wonderful news should be 
sent on its way about the town, and she 
would be the one to give it a vigorous start. 

Still by the old well Randy and Prue lin- 
gered, Randy watching the bees as they hov- 
ered about the morning glories, Prue asking 
for yet another story. 

“ Tell me ’gain ’bout the beautiful lady 
what singed at the concert,” she pleaded, 
and again Randy told of the prima donna’s 
sweet voice, little Prue listening with eager 
eyes, as intent to catch each detail as if 
Randy for the first time was describing it. 
And Randy told the story faithfully. She 
had known the joy of listening to the witch- 
ing music; then she would give little Prue 
a perfect description that should give her a 
share in the pleasure, for next best to hear- 
ing the music, Prue reasoned, was to hear 
about it. 


CHAPTER II 


A WELCOME GUEST 

“ An’ ye say she’s not a bit haughty?” 
queried Aunt Prudence, as, with her lips set 
in a peculiar pucker, she proceeded to tuck 
the upper crust of an apple pie securely in 
place, and then with a fork to crimp the edge 
into subjection. No pie crust which Aunt 
Prudence Weston had handled ever pre- 
sumed to slip from the edge of the plate 
upon which she had placed it. 

“ Haughty?” said Randy. “ No, indeed , 
Aunt Prudence. Nina Irwin is bright and 
sweet, and has what Miss Dayton calls a 
6 pretty dignity,’ but she’s not a bit haughty, 
and you will say so when you see her. She’s 
a girl whom all the other girls like and ad- 
mire ; she is full of fun, but I’ll tell you one 
thing that I noticed as soon as I became ac- 
quainted with her. 

26 


A WELCOME GUEST 


27 


u She is witty, and often at school kept us 
all laughing at her bright speeches, but she 
never says a sharp word to anyone, nor 
makes a joke at another’s expense, and once 
when one of the girls made an unkind re- 
mark about another’s dress, you should have 
see Nina, She turned and looked at the 
speaker with such scorn that the girl 
blushed, and I know felt ashamed. After a 
pause Nina said: 

“ ‘ I’ve never noticed her clothing; I have 
always been so busy admiring her that I’ve 
not found time to criticise her frocks, but 
one thing about her always seemed conspic- 
uous to me. She never says unpleasant 
things of anyone.’ 

“ We all loved Nina for her brave words, 
for Therese Eames could be very unpleas- 
ant when she chose, and few of the girls at 
the school would have cared to offend her.” 

Aunt Prudence was interested. “ Haow 
did it turn aout? ” she asked. 

“ That’s the strangest part of it,” said 
Randy. “ Therese looked at Nina for a mo- 


RANDY AND PRUE 


28 

ment, and then, without saying a word, she 
turned and walked away. Afterward she 
joined us, and looking straight at Nina she 
said: 

“ ‘ I didn’t intend to be mean when I 
spoke as I did a few minutes ago. I was 
only amused at the odd style of the gown 
which I criticised, and I didn’t stop to think 
how it sounded to speak as I did. Indeed I 
did not mean to be unkind.’ 

“ And do you know she didn’t say a word 
about anyone during the rest of the term 
that could be called harsh or cruel.” 

Aunt Prudence placed the pies in the 
oven, and energetically closed the door. 

“ I still say I look forward ter meetin’ 
yer friend Nina,” she remarked. 

“ Me too, me too,” cried Prue ; “ I want 
the Nina girl to come. Somebody give me 
a teenty piece of crust to make a little pie 
with ; I want to bake it in my dolly’s wash 
bowl.” 

“ Naow, Prue, you run away an’ play with 
yer two little kittens,” said Aunt Prudence. 


A WELCOME GUEST 


29 

“ No, no, I can’t play with those kittens 
now. I got to make a pie for the Nina girl, 
and bake it in my dolly’s wash bowl,” cried 
Prue, excitedly. 

“ Wal, I’ve heared er queer dishes before 
naow,” remarked Aunt Prudence, dryly, 
“ but I must say I never heared of offering 
‘ wash-bowl ’ pies to comp’nv. Here, Prue, 
you can hev this bit er crust on the end er 
the table, but I advise ye ter eat the pie 
when it’s done instead er savin’ it fer Miss 
Nina. She might not take ter it.” 

“ You don’t any of you know how nice it 
will be,” said Prue. “ I’m going to put lots 
of things in it ’sides apple, and when the 
Nina girl eats it she’ll say she never tasted 
anything like it before.” 

“ Wal, I guess likely she will,” said Aunt 
Prudence, with a laugh, in which Randy 
joined ; but little Prue considered their mer- 
riment uncalled for, and again assured them 
that her wash-bowl pie was to be a very fine 
thing. 

Mrs. Weston was occupied in renovating 


30 RANDY AND PRUE 

the spare room, and out in the dooryard a 
farm-hand was energetically washing the 
wagon which later in the day would convey 
Nina from the depot to the house. Randy 
was helping Aunt Prudence, and even Tabby 
seemed to know that an honored guest was 
expected, for close by the range she lay and 
washed her own sleek coat and the soft fur 
of her two pretty kittens as if determined 
to present as fine an appearance as possible. 

At the table little Prue decorated her 
“ wash-bowl pie ” with bits of crust which 
she twisted into odd little knobs, and forci- 
bly pressed them in place. 

“ See these lovely balls on top of my pie, 
Tabby,” she cried ; “ crust balls, just to make 
it look pretty — no, no, you mustn’t put 
your nose on it. It’s got to be baked ’fore it 
can be eaten, an’ when it’s done the Nina 
girl will eat it. Don’t you mind, Tabby, dar- 
ling, if you an’ your kittens doesn’t get the 
pie; you shall have a saucer of milk. 

“ Oh, Randy Randy ! ” she cried, as Randy 
stooped to the oven to see if the pies were 


A WELCOME GUEST 


31 


browning. “ Please put my little pie where 
it will get baked real brown, an’ then tell 
me which of these kittens is a blonze, an’ 
which is a blunette.” 

Randy nearly dropped the pie which she 
was turning, and when she had closed the 
oven door she sat down upon the braided 
mat beside Tabby and laughed until her 
eyes were filled with tears. 

“ Oh, Prue,” she cried, “ what will you 
say next? ” 

“ Well, ’tain’t funny,” said Prue, as she 
looked at Randy in mild astonishment. 

“ Hez’kiah Blunt was helpin’ ’round the 
barn the other day when I had those kit- 
tens out in my little wagon, an’ he said, ‘ One 
er them ere kittens is a blonze an’ t’other is 
a blunette, Miss Prue ; ’ he did, truly, an’ 
now I want to know which. Well, why is it 
so funny? Do please stop laughing while 
I tell you. 

“ The gray and white one is ’most all 
white, an’ that’s the one I think he called 
the blonze” — Randy was shaking with ill- 


32 BANDY AND PRUE 

suppressed merriment — u and the brindle 
one, you ’member his name’s Orlando 
Steubenreiser, must be the blunette, ’cause 
he’s so much darker.” 

Randy turned and affected to be mi- 
nutely examining the brindle kitten. 

“ I think he must be the ‘ blunette,’ ” she 
said, and she hurried away to tell her 
mother of Prue’s funniest saying. 

With the bustle of preparation the sunny 
day wore on, until the clock hands pointed 
to quarter of five. 

Mrs. Weston, wearing her best gown and 
white apron ; Aunt Prudence in her chair at 
the window, and little Prue on the door- 
stone, her kittens in her lap, awaited Nina 
Irwin’s coming with varied sensations of ex- 
pectation. 

Mrs. Weston felt sure that the girl whom 
Randy and Helen Dayton admired must be 
a paragon. Aunt Prudence hoped that 
Miss Nina was “ all she was cracked up to 
be,” and Prue in her loving little heart be- 
lieved that the “ Nina girl ” was little less 


A WELCOME GUEST 


33 


than an angel, since she was the original of 
the charming photograph which Randy pos- 
sessed. 

Randy and her father had started early 
for their drive to the Centre, and they drew 
up at the station five minutes before the 
train was due. 

“ Oh, father,” said Randy, “ Fm like Prue. 
I’m wondering if the ‘ Nina girl ’ will ever 
come.” 

“ Wal, I may as well admit, I feel that 
way myself,” said Mr. Weston, with a 
laugh. 

At last, with a shriek, the train appeared 
around the bend, and slowed down to stop 
before the little station. Two or three staid 
passengers alighted. “ You don’t suppose 
she couldn’t come, do you, father? Oh, 
there she is ! ” 

“ Oh, Nina,, Nina, here we are, just wild 
to see you, and wondering if anything had 
prevented your coming.” 

Mr. Weston had known of Randy’s love 
for Nina, and one look into her dark eyes 


34 HANDY AND PRUE 

as she stood with her arm about Randy con- 
vinced him that Randy’s affection was fully 
returned. 

“ This is Nina Irwin, father. Nina, this 
is the dear father of whom you have heard 
so much.” 

“ I’m pleased to meet ye, Miss Nina, truly 
pleased ; and ye’ll find three new friends up 
at the farm that ’ll have the fidgets if I don’t 
arrive with ye the minute ye’re expected.” 

“ I cannot begin to tell you how I have 
anticipated this visit,” said Nina. “ I have 
never been on a farm before, although I have 
always thought it would give me rare pleas- 
ure to spend a part of a summer in the coun- 
try and away from the gay life at the hotels. 
The winter is full of excitement; I like a 
bit of quiet happiness when summer 
comes.” 

“ It’s quiet ’nough up our way,” said Mr. 
Weston, “ but I guess Randy an’ Prue can 
contrive ter keep ye awake.” 

“ Oh, Randy is the very best of company,” 
Nina replied, “ and from what she has told 


A WELCOME GUEST 


35 


me of her little sister’s doings and cute say- 
ings, I think that Prue must be a little host 
in herself.’’ 

“ Prue is a team,” said Mr. Weston, with 
a laugh, “ an’ now, Miss Nina,” he con- 
tinued, “jest look this way a minute, an’ 
say ef ye ever saw a prettier sight.” 

Nina turned, and a cry of delight escaped 
her lips. At the right of the road, a rocky 
field, with here and there a stunted little 
bush, seemed the least tempting pasture im- 
aginable, yet a flock of sheep and lambs were 
grazing, moving in little groups, and nip- 
ping at the short grass. Near the wall 
which divided the pasture from the road, 
a young lamb had strayed from the flock, 
but the sound of the wagon wheels sent the 
timid little creature bleating to its mother, 
where, huddled close beside her, it ventured 
to look back. 

“ Oh, the cunning things,” cried Nina. 
“ How blue the sky looks above the pasture, 
and the sunlight! See the long shadows 
which follow the sheep as they move about,” 


36 


BANDY AND PRUE 


u Wal, we’ll be drivin’ along, fer the 
folks at home are anxious ter see ye, Miss 
Nina, an’ the sheep are here ter be looked 
at every day. Ye’ll find that ye can make 
friends with the critters as soon as they 
learn that ye mean ter be gentle with ’em.” 

“ I’ll lose no time in reassuring them,” 
said Nina. 

The drive over the long shady road, with 
Randy’s sweet eyes resting lovingly upon 
her, filled Nina with an assurance of her 
welcome. As they turned in at the drive- 
way little Prue promptly dropped the kit- 
tens and shouting gayly, “ They’ve come, 
they’ve come, and brought the Nina girl,” 
she danced toward them, her eyes shining, 
and her short curls flying. 

“ Yes, the Nina girl has come,” said Nina, 
laughing, “ and you I know are Randy’s 
little Prue.” 

“ And yours, too,” Prue answered, “ your 
little Prue, if you want me. I telled Randy 
to say in her letter that I’d be your little 
sister, ’cause you haven’t got one.” 


A WELCOME GUEST 37 

Nina stooped to kiss the sweet, wistful 
face as she said, “ I’ve come all the way 
from Boston to find a big sister Randy and 
a little sister Prue.” 

Mrs. Weston appeared in the doorway, 
followed by Aunt Prudence, and Randy led 
Nina forward. Mrs. Weston hastened 
toward her, saying : 

“ Why, Miss Nina, we wondered if the 
train was late, or if something prevented 
yer cornin’. We’re glad ter see ye, an’ we 
should all have been disjointed if ye’d been 

delayed in cornin’. Come right in an’ see 

Oh, here she is, as usual, at my right hand. 
Miss Nina, this is ” 

“ Yer Aunt Prudence, I’m aunt ter these 
two girls, an’ I think I need another niece. 
Jest call me Aunt Prudence, as they do, and 
ye’ll please me.” 

“ Indeed I will,” Nina answered, a bright 
tear upon her lashes. “ I feel at home 
already, and if you will all call me Nina, 
instead of Miss Nina, I shall feel that this 
is just a second home which I have found.” 


38 


BANDY AND PRUE 


“ You can play wiv my two kittens all 
the time, if you want to,” said Prue, as she 
ran in and deposited her pets in Nina’s lap. 
Then away she ran to reappear in the door- 
way with Tabby in her arms. 

“ And this is Tabby,” she cried, “ the 
mother of those lovely kittens.” 

- Nina could not help laughing, as Prue 
stood at the door, holding Tabby firmly, that 
all her good points might be seen before she 
could escape. 

“ Our visitor hasn’t seen the cows yet, 
Prue ; are ye goin’ ter bring them in ter be 
looked at? ” asked Mr. Weston, and Prue 
answered promptly: 

“ Why, no, they’re too big ; but I guess you 
could bring the pretty calf in. There’s room 
’nougli for him in here.” 

Just then Mrs. Weston announced that 
tea was ready, and Prue decided to wait un- 
til the next morning to exhibit the calf. 

The absence of servants did not disturb 
Nina Irwin. The table set with its white 
cloth and laden with wholesome country 


A WELCOME GUEST 


39 


fare seemed wonderfully tempting, and the 
atmosphere of frank, outspoken kindliness, 
the loving regard with which each member 
of the family held the others, filled her with 
a restful content, and a happy little sigh 
escaped her lips. 

“ Are you very tired, Nina? ” asked 
Randy, gently laying her hand upon Nina’s 
arm. 

“ Yes, a little tired,” answered Nina, “ but 
that was not what made me take a long 
breath. I was just thinking that I had been 
rushing about all winter, and that I had 
come to this lovely place, had found new 
friends, and that while I stay I need not 
hurry about anything. The idea of such a 
restful visit made me catch my breath, and 
wonder if it were really true.” 

“ It doesn’t ever make me tired to rush,” 
declared Prue. “ I rush everywhere.” 

“ An’ ye might add, keep the rest of us 
rushin’ ter see what ye’re up ter,” said Aunt 
Prudence, with a laugh, in which the others 
joined. 


40 


BANDY AND PRUE 


That night Nina and Randy talked of the 
day on which they had first met at Miss 
Helen Dayton’s lovely home in Boston, of 
their school-days during that winter, of the 
joys of this visit to Randy’s home, and Nina 
dropped to sleep while thinking of the flock 
of sheep which she had seen during the 
drive from the station. 


CHAPTER III 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 

“ I never saw a spot so lovely,” exclaimed 
Nina Irwin, as she stood beside Randy on 
the margin of the mill-pond and looked off 
across the shimmering water to watch with 
admiration the rhythmic dipping of the oars 
as Jothani came toward them in his new 
boat, The Randy . 

Two weeks of Nina’s visit had sped as if 
on wings, and Randy and Jotham had vied 
with each other in planning little pleasure- 
trips which would show her the beauties of 
their country home. She had seen the pond 
many times when driving along the shady 
old mill road with Randy, but it possessed 
charms which to-day she saw for the first 
time. 

At one side a row of ancient willows 
leaned tow T ard the water and were mirrored 

41 


42 RANDY AND PRJJE 

there. On the opposite side wild shrubbery 
formed a rambling hedge, over which one 
could see young alders with their thick, 
dark foliage. 

Lily pads there were in little colonies, and 
lilies, too, if one might only reach them. 

And now Jotham was near enough to see 
their eager faces, and to assure them that 
the lilies on the further side of the pond were 
larger than any which they had yet seen. 
Very gallantly Jotham assisted his fair 
passengers to their places in his “ barge,” 
as he laughingly called it. 

“ Oh, call it a gondola,” said Nina, “ that 
will sound even more romantic, and we will 
call the pond the lagoon. Whatever we call 
it,” she continued, “ there was never a place 
more lovely. See the deep shadows under 
the willows ” 

“ Where the nixies is,” cried Prue, as if 
completing the sentence. “ Nina, do you be- 
lieve there isn’t nixies? ” 

“ Why, Prue,” said Nina, “ why don’t you 
tell us what you believe? ” 



JOTHAM WAS NEAR ENOUGH TO SEE THEIR EAGER FACES Page 42 




AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 43 

“ Well,” said the little girl gravely, 
“ when I’m in the house with my fairy book, 
I ’most always don’t b’lieve it, but when I 
look down, down in the water, where the 
shadows is all dark, and cool, and green, I 
’most wonder if p’raps — just p’raps — there 
is some nixies if you could only see 
’em.” 

“ Hi, Prue ! You mustn’t lean too far 
over to look. You might tumble out and 
then, before you knew it, you would be hunt- 
ing around on the bottom of the pond for the 
nixies that you think are down there,” said 
Jotham. 

Randy’s cheek paled, and she quickly 
grasped the folds of Prue’s skirt, lest again 
the little girl should lean impulsively over 
the side of the boat. 

The sunlight danced upon the water, the 
bright drops as they fell from the oars 
seemed like sparkling jewels, and over the 
surface the dragon-flies hovered, now light- 
ing upon the stern of the boat, then taking 
zigzag flight toward a lily bud which 


44 BANDY AND PRUE 

offered a perfumed resting-place for the 

steel-winged insects. 

At one point a tiny wharf had been built, 
and Randy exclaimed, “ Let us gather some 
of the land flowers as well as water lilies.” 
So Jotham made the boat fast, and taking 
Prue’s little hand, he allowed Randy and 
Nina to lead the way. To Nina every 
flower which they found was beautiful. She 
had been surfeited with hothouse blooms, 
and while she loved the rare exotics which 
so often decorated her home, she found a 
new joy in gathering for herself the shy, 
pretty wild flowers which seemed to spring 
up for her on every hand. 

In the shade of some high bushes Nina 
sat down to rest, and Randy, choosing some 
sweet-scented pink blossoms, proceeded to 
tuck them securely between the locks of her 
dark hair. Little Prue ran here and there 
plucking every flower which she saw, twitch- 
ing them off with scarcely enough stem to 
permit of arranging them. She held her 
little skirt with one hand, and with the 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-FOND 45 

other made heroic efforts to gather blossoms 
to fill it. 

Jotham had sauntered down to the wharf 
to deposit in the boat an armful of green 
foliage, as they were to decorate The 
Randy for the homeward “ voyage.” Very 
skillfully he fastened them in place, and 
when his task was completed, a green gar- 
land passed quite around the boat. Step- 
ping back a few paces, Jotham surveyed his 
work. 

“ Fairly good for me,” he murmured, 
“ but not quite fine enough for the girls,” 
and he proceeded to place at intervals among 
the green foliage, clusters of blossoms, and 
at once saw that their bright hues gave the 
needed touch of color to the decoration. 

“ Oh, the fairy boat ! The fairy boat ! ” 
cried a sweet voice behind him, and, turn- 
ing, Jotham saw little Prue running toward 
him, her face radiant with delight. 

“ Did you do it, Jotham? Did you? ” she 
asked, slipping her hand into his, and look- 
ing up into his face. 


46 


RANDY AND PRUE 


“ Why, yes, Pussy, who else did you sup- 
pose? ” 

“ Well, I knew ’twas you, or else some of 
the nixies, and I don’t really , truly b’lieve 
there are any. Oh, Jotham,” she added, 
“you’re always doing pleasant things; 
that’s why I love you so.” 

Very gently Jotham stooped and took the 
little girl in his arms. “ Try to think, Prue,” 
he said ; “ do you remember something I 
once promised you? ” 

For an instant her eyes were round with 
wonder, then a bright light shone in them, 
as she said, “ Oh, now I know, now I ’mem- 
ber. It was one time when I said you were 
the best big boy I knew. ’Twas long ’fore 
you went away to Boston to study. You 
said you’d promise me you’d always be 
brave an’ good.” 

“ Well, Prue, I mean to be ; I’ll keep that 
promise faithfully. Now, will you make me 
a little promise, Prue? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” assented Prue, “ because I love 
you, Jotham. What shall I promise?” 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 47 

“ Promise always to be my little friend,” 
he answered. 

Prue’s brown eyes were grave as they 
looked into his, and the red lips were firmly 
set as she said, “ I’ll promise, but I’d be it 
anyway; I’ll always be your truly little 
friend.” 

There was a firmness in her voice and 
manner that moved Jotham strangely. 
Laughing, mischievous little Prue had not 
made her promise lightly. Together they re- 
traced their steps to where Randy and Nina 
awaited them. Prue was again her light- 
hearted little self, but Jotham, as he looked 
at her laughing face and listened to her 
merry chatter, marveled that so blithe a 
little fairy could but a moment since have 
been so serious. Nina and Randy were quite 
ready for the return trip, and Prue, catch- 
ing their hands, urged them on toward 
where the garlanded boat awaited them. 

“ See, see ! ” she cried, “ see the lovely 
boat! Isn’t Jotham just sweet to make the 
boat so pretty? ” 


48 


RANDY AND PRUE 


They laughed merrily at Prue’s request 
for a compliment for Jotham, and Nina 
said: 

“ I think you could make your fortune as 
a decorator, Jotham.” 

“ I believe he could,” said Randy, “ but he 
has set his heart upon being a lawyer, 
and ” 

u And if I find myself some day in an 
office of my own,” said Jotham, “ I suppose 
I can use my spare time, while I am waiting 
for clients, in planning decorations for 
county fairs and other great events.” 

When they were once more seated in the 
boat, Randy proposed that they make a cir- 
cuit of the pond, lest a single charming spot 
should remain unexplored. Into every 
pretty nook they floated, discovering new 
beauties wherever they went. Under the 
overhanging branches of the willow trees 
they seemed as if in a bower, then into the 
sunlight to gather more lilies, until they lay 
a snowy heap of fragrance in the bottom of 
the boat, and Nina, her hands filled with the 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 49 
lovely blossoms, caught her breath as she 
exclaimed, “ Oh, this is surely an enchanted 
mill-pond, with flowers, flowers everywhere. 
See the graceful vines hanging from that 
old tree trunk! And those little yellow 
lilies near the shore ! Truly, I never before 
saw so many beautiful flowers growing wild 
and within reach.” 

Randy and Jotham enjoyed Nina’s pleas- 
ure, and shared her enthusiasm. They were 
very proud to show this charming city girl 
how truly delightful the country could be. 
Prue had been unusually quiet, when sud- 
denly she exclaimed, “ Oh, look, look ! 
There’s Orlando Steubenreiser, the beauti- 
ful big man what my kitten is named 
for!” 

They turned and saw a surly-looking man 
standing at the water’s edge surveying them. 

“ What a rough-looking man,” said Nina 
Irwin ; “ who is he, Randy? ” 

Randy laid her hand upon Nina’s arm, 
and Jotham, wondering at Randy’s silence, 
answered for her: 


50 


RANDY AND PRUE 


“ He is a general helper at the mill, and 
little Prue claims him for a friend.” 

“ Well, he’s good to me,” said Prue. “ He 
carried me over some big puddles once when 
’twas rainy, an’ he fished my sunbonnet out 
of this pond once when the wind blew it in, 
an’ he made me a lovely whistle. He 
whittled it for me, and I make fine music on 
it; so I’ve named my kitten for him, an’ I 
know he’ll grow to be a great, monst’ous 
cat. Orlando ! Orlando Stuben-rei-ser ! ” 
cried Prue, “ wait for me, I’ve got something 
for you ! ” 

“ Oh, hush ! ” said Randy, placing her arm 
around Prue. They were nearing the shore, 
and as Jotham lifted Prue out of the boat, 
the tall, dark man took her very gently and 
set her upon her feet. The little girl held 
up her handful of white lilies, and the Ger- 
man stolidly took them with a muttered 
word of thanks. He had seen pond lilies be- 
fore, but he valued these as the gift of a 
little child. 

Rough, sullen, unfriendly toward others, 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 51 
he had always a kind word for Prue, for 
at heart he loved children, and Prue, who 
never feared him, had charmed him more 
than he would have been willing to ad- 
mit. If the little girl had been alone, he 
would have stopped to listen to her sweet 
voice and have added his deep bass to the 
conversation ; as it was, he touched his hat 
brim with a sullen attempt at salutation, 
and lounged away toward the mill. 

“ I wonder that Prue dares to speak to 
him,” said Nina; “ I think I never saw a 
face more genuinely surly.” 

“ I am more than half afraid of him,” ad- 
mitted Randy, while Jotham smiled at their 
fears. 

“ He is a sullen-looking fellow,” he said, 
“ and not particularly prepossessing. 
Father says that he is well liked at the mill 
because of liis great strength and his will- 
ingness to work. He takes no interest in 
town affairs, and that is, perhaps, one 
reason why he is unpopular.” 

“ He looked capable of anything,” said 


52 


BANDY AND PRUE 


Nina, “ and he scowled so blackly at yon, 
Jotkam, that I wondered if he would be 
moved to demolish your boat when you were 
out of sight.” 

“ Just look over your shoulder and you 
will see that he is doing me a little service,” 
said Jotham. “ I thought I fastened the 
boat securely, but it seems that I was a bit 
careless, and he, on seeing her drifting, has 
caught the rope and is now making her fast. 
Fll run back and thank him ; he deserves it.” 

The little party waited for Jotham by the 
roadside, and when he rejoined them Randy 
asked how the man received his thanks. 

“ In about his usual manner,” said Jo- 
tham, with a smile; “ it was right to thank 
him, whether he valued my words or not.” 

“ Oh ! I forgot to tell him I’ve named my 
kitten for him ! ” exclaimed Prue, in great 
excitement; “ why didn’t I ’member? 
’Twould have made him look happy, I do 
b’lieve.” 

“ You will have to make a point of telling 
him the next time you see him. Such an 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 53 
honor ought to make any man proud,” said 
Jotham. 

“ Why, would you like the other one to be 
named for you?” asked Prue, “ because 
’tain’t too late now. His name’s Fluffy, but 
I can make it Fluffy Jotham.” 

“ Oh, what a combination ! ” said Randy, 
and Jotham and Nina joined in the laugh- 
ter. 

“ Well, that’s what it is,” persisted Prue, 
“ no matter how much you laugh. That 
little cat’s name is got to be Fluffy Jotham.” 

The girls endeavored to restrain their 
merriment, for little Prue was plainly dis- 
gusted, but Jotham asked, with evident 
anxiety : 

u Do you think, Prue, that giving the kit- 
ten my name will cause him to look like me 
as he grows older? ” 

“ I don’t know,” she answered slowly, as 
if thinking seriously of the matter; “lie’s 
got blue eyes now, but Randy says they’ll 
be some other color when he’s a big cat.” 

“ In all probability they’ll be green,” said 


54 RANDY AND PRUE 

Jotham, with a groan, and Prue looked fix- 
edly at him to discover if he were laughing. 
As there was not a vestige of a smile upon 
his face, Prue decided that he was the only 
one of the three who took a sensible view 
of so important a matter as the naming of 
the kitten. 

“ This is the road toward home,” said Jo- 
tham, as he saw that Randy and Nina were 
about to pass it. 

“ I have an errand at Sandy McLeod’s,” 
said Randy. “ Mother told me to stop there 
before coming home, and we’ll give Mrs. 
McLeod some of our lilies ; she is very fond 
of flowers:” 

As they walked along the shady road, 
their arms filled with the fragrant lilies, it 
appeared as if they might spare a few for 
any friend whom they should chance to 
meet. As they turned in at the gate, the 
dear old lady was standing in her doorway, 
and her face was radiant as she bade them 
welcome. 

“ Ay, glad I am to see ye, Miss Nina an’ a \ 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 55 
In my cool best room I’ll receive ye. Hoot! 
a part o’ the blooms fresh frae the pond for 
me? Oh, tae think o’ it. Sit ye doon, las- 
sies, an’ Maester Jotham, ’til I gang oot tae 
bring a braw bowl tae hold the lilies.” 

How quaintly beautiful the room ap- 
peared to Nina Irwin. Its great oak 
rafters, its huge fireplace, and the finely 
carved oak chairs. The lovely little old lady 
who was so delighted to see them; ah, she 
was an important part of the picture, for 
she seemed to harmonize with the beauty of 
the furnishings, a fitting member of the 
family of Scottish chieftains and their wives 
whose portraits adorned the walls. She 
soon returned with a huge bowl, in which 
she had arranged her lilies, saying, as she 
placed it upon the table, “ There ! that is 
fit for the queen’s drawing-room, but ’twas 
gi’en me by some dear young friends. What 
shall I do for ye in return? ” 

“ Only one thing, dear Mrs. McLeod,” 
said Randy; “ tell us a story. You often 
tell one to Prue; tell one to us before we go.” 


56 


BANDY AND PRUE 


“ Oh, do,” urged Nina. 

“ Begin , i Once upon a time/ ” cried Prue. 
“ The nicest ones always begin that 
way.” 

“ Noo, list tae the bairn,” exclaimed the 
dear old lady, well pleased that Prue should 
approve her usual manner of commencing a 
tale. 

“ The ane tale that’s been filling my mind 
this day is ane that is true, and ’tis braw 
for you lassies and Maester Jotham, tho’ a 
bit old for wee Prue,” said Mrs. McLeod, 
“ but it begins wi’ a wee lad and lassie ” 

“ Away in bonnie Scotland? ” asked Prue. 

“ Awa’ in bonnie Scotland,” was the smil- 
ing assent, “ an’ oh, the sunny days that we 
twa spent at play an’ at our tasks, always 
taegither — always taegither.” 

Jotham glanced at Randy, who sat in the 
sunlight, every ringlet shining like burn- 
ished gold. 

“ Then frae bairnies they grew tae be lad 
and lass, still finding nae pleasure except 
taegither. The lad’s faether had goold tae 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 57 
spare, the lassie’s faether was weel tae do, 
an’ in a’ the land there seemed nane happier 
than the twa young friends. Then wae be 
it! The lad knew o’er much for his years, 
an’ his faether knew mair, an’ a sair dispute 
parted them. The faether threatened tae 
cut him off wi’ a wee bit portion; the lad 
said he wad na take the gift o’ a’ his goold, 
an’ awa’ tae America he flew, wi’out a word 
tae the lass wha ha’ been his friend sin’ the 
twa were bairnies. Ne’er a word he wrote, 

an’ the lass ” Mrs. McLeod twisted her 

apron string. 

“ Aweel ! she feared it wad be unco bold 
tae write, e’en had she the direction, sae the 
years were lang, the years were lang, when 
it happened oddly, as it sometimes weel, a 
wee lass bid the mon, for mon grown he’d 
been for mony a long day, tae write a little 
letter tae the waiting heart in Scotland. 
Ay, the blessing o’ that letter! I feel the 
beating o’ my heart tae-day, as truly as when 
I saw the fameeliar writing on its wrapper.” 

“ Oh, Mrs, McLeod ! ” cried Randy, “ ’tis 


58 BANDY AND PRTJE 

your own story you are telling us, yours and 

Sandy’s, isn’t it? ” 

“ Indeed it is,” was the answer, while 
bright tears filled the sweet eyes, “ an’ ’twas 
this blessed bairnie wha said : 

“ ‘ Write tae her, write the letter,’ an he 
did write it, a fine, manly letter, takin’ a’ 
the blame an’ askin’ me tae forgi’e. 

“ Tae forgi’e ! I’d done it years before. 
Weel, there’s nae mair tae tell, except tae 
let little Prue put on the eending.” 

“ And they lived happy ever after,” said 
Prue, clasping her hands and looking up 
into the face of her old friend. 

“ An’ they lived happy ever after,” re- 
peated Mrs. McLeod, “ an’ noo I dinna ken 
if ye’re a mind for a moral, but say it I do, 
an’ I hope ye’ll take it tae heart. 

“ Don’t let a true friendship slip. Ne’er 
let a kind word remain unspoken that 
might cement a friendship for a lifetime.” 

Very quietly they offered her their hands 
at parting, promising to remember the story 
and the admonition. 


AN ENCHANTED MILL-POND 59 
On their homeward way Randy and Nina 
walked, their arms about each other’s 
waists, Prue clasping Jotham’s warm hand, 
Jotham watching Randy with a new light in 
his kind dark eyes. 


CHAPTER IV 


RANDY IN A NEW ROLE 

Nina’s four- weeks’ stay at the farm had 
passed so swiftly that Randy found it diffi- 
cult to realize that the visit had been a real- 
ity, not a delightful dream. 

From the pretty country village which she 
had so truly admired Nina went with her 
mother to a fashionable summer resort, 
where often, in the midst of social gayety, a 
vision of a long shady country road which 
she had often traversed with Randy and 
Prue would seem so real that a little sigh 
would tremble upon her lips. Sometimes in 
fancy she was again upon the mill-pond 
gathering the snowy lilies which floated 
upon its shimmering surface, and she was 
conscious of a vague longing for a few sunny 
days, free from excitement, such as Randy’s 
home had afforded. 


RANDY IN A NEW ROLE 61 

In one of her letters to Randy she wrote : 

“ I’ve scarcely an idle moment. Drives, 
teas, receptions, and musicales are filling the 
flying hours, and I often wish that I could 
run away for a short time which I might 
spend in your sunny, peaceful home, after 
which I think I could resume the ‘ whirl ’ 
with renewed vigor.” 

Nina’s letters filled Randy with content. 
She did not long for the life of excitement 
which they so vividly described. Why 
should she envy one who frankly admitted 
that while there was in it much pleasure, 
there was a deal of weariness as well? 

“ I enjoyed the fine concerts, and my 
lovely party, while I was visiting Helen 
Dayton in Boston,” she thought one day as 
she looked at her smiling face in the mirror, 
“ but I should not like always to be flying 
from one entertainment to another. Nina 
tires of it at times, her letters tell that 
plainly, else she would never long for this 
little country village.” 


62 


BANDY AND PRUE 


It was a part of Randy’s cheerful nature 
to be contented, and while humming softly 
she was surprised to hear Aunt Prudence in 
the next room ejaculate : 

“ Haow on airtli did we ever manage to 
get on last winter without Randy? ” 

“ We didn’t really manage,” said Mrs. 
Weston mildly; “ we only sort er pulled 
through.” 

How they had missed her ! 

“ I’ll make it up to them,” thought Randy. 
a How good they were to let me stay when 
they were lonely without me.” 

Tears filled her eyes as she thought how 
patiently, how unselfishly, they had made it 
possible for her to spend the winter in the 
city. The season of study at the private 
school had been delightful, and Randy knew 
that when the winter days came she could 
not prevent a feeling of regret that she could 
not again be associated with the charming 
friends which she had made, or join in their 
gayety. At the same time, she remembered 
how deeply she had missed the dear ones at 


RANDY IN A NEW ROLE 63 

home, and a smile chased away her tears as 
she said : 

“ I am glad of one thing. If I am here 
I surely shall not be homesick. Last season, 
with all its pleasures, I could not drive away 
the longing for a sight of the faces of those 
whom I so dearly love.” 

The sunlight came in at the open door and 
lay, a golden band, upon the floor; the 
flowers in the garden swayed in the breeze 
and seemed to be nodding an invitation to 
Randy as she stood upon the doorstep 
watching the butterflies as they hovered 
over the sweetest blossoms. She was in- 
dulging in a day-dream, when Prue ran up 
the walk, breathless and excited. 

“ Oh, Randy, Randy ! come down to the 
spring,” she cried, “ and see the man phil- 
andering.” 

“ See what?” said Randy, in surprise. 

“ See the man philandering,” repeated 
Prue ; “ that’s what Mr. Small says he’s 
doin’. He’s got a funny little three-legged 
thing in front of him, an’ he’s settin’ on a 


64 


RANDY AND PRUE 


three-legged stool, an’ has got a handful 
of long-handled brushes, an’ a big wooden 
plate with bright colors on it. I thought he 
was making a picture, an’ I asked Phoebe 
why she didn’t come an’ look at it, but she 
only shook her head an’ wouldn’t answer. 
She’s standin’ still by the spring with a jug 
in her hand, an’ she didn’t move ’t all.” 

“ But why is Phoebe out there in the 
sun?” asked Bandy. 

“ She’s philandering, too. Her father 
says, ‘ the two on ’em is just a- wasting time 
philanderin’,’ but they can’t both be doin’ 
it, ’cause they isn’t doin’ the same thing. 
Do come an’ look at ’em, Randy; you can 
see ’em from the road.” 

“ I can’t think what Phoebe can be doing,” 
said Randy, as Prue tugged at her dress, 
and hurried her down the path. 

“ Why, Phoebe isn’t doin’ anything,” said 
Prue; “ her pa says she is, but she isn’t. It’s 
the big man that’s philandering with the 
wooden plate and those funny brushes. He 
rubs ’em ’round on the color an’ then daubs 


RANDY IN A NEW ROLE 65 
them onto the thing in front of him, an* I 
know you’ll just ’mire to see him doin’ 
it.” 

When they reached the wall, Phoebe had 
left her position by the spring, and was 
eagerly watching the progress of the pic- 
ture, as the artist proceeded to touch up the 
lights upon the birches, or strengthen the 
shadows in the little pool of water. 

“ There, see him doin’ it, Randy ; don’t he 
look funny, sittin’ on that teenty stool?” 
said Prue in her shrill little treble; and, 
much amused, the artist turned a smiling 
face toward the child who thought his task 
and attitude peculiar. Phoebe urged them 
to come nearer, and inspect the sketch, and 
when Randy stood beside her, she intro- 
duced them quite grandly, designating the 
artist as “ my friend, Mr. Blentmore.” 

It was indeed an interesting picture. The 
figure of Phoebe, while not intended for a 
portrait, gave a fair representation of her 
form, her coloring, and her general bearing; 
and the spring in the foreground, and the 


66 BANDY AND PRUE 

clump of trees just behind her, served to 

make a pretty composition. 

44 It is lovely/ ” said Randy, her eyes spar- 
kling with enthusiasm. 44 How fine you 
look, Phoebe, with your jug in your hand, 
and your figure reflected in the spring.” 

44 It looks some prettier than Phoebe does, 
doesn’t it? ” asked Prue, scrutinizing the 
painted figure, with her little nose nearly 
touching the canvas. She felt that she was 
complimenting the artist’s skill when she 
declared the painting to be more charming 
than the model. Phoebe’s face flushed with 
sudden annoyance. She was much de- 
lighted that Mr. Blentmore had chosen to 
paint her, and Prue’s remark was certainly 
not flattering. 

The artist answered tactfully, 44 You must 
wait, little girl, until I ask Phoebe to pose 
again, when I am sure you will think that 
she looks quite as nice as the girl in the 
picture.” 

44 Yes, I’ll like to wait and see her,” said 
Prue; 44 will she be ready pretty soon?” 



Phcebe was ready, and with quite a self-satisfied air she 

resumed her pose Page 67 
























































RANDY IN A NEW ROLE 67 

The artist smiled at the little girl’s eager- 
ness. 

“ I think we will begin again, Miss 
Phoebe,” he said; “ that is, if you are suffi- 
ciently rested.” 

Yes, Phoebe was ready, and with quite a 
self-satisfied air she resumed her pose, and 
looked toward her friends for approval. 

“ Turn a little to the left, please. Ah, 
that is right,” said Mr. Blentmore, and tak- 
ing up his palette and brushes he resumed 
work upon the canvas. Randy watched 
with rapt attention, as his dexterous touches 
strengthened the light and shadow. 

Prue, her head tipped at an angle, as if 
trying to determine the merit of his 
work, watched the placing of every brush- 
mark. 

At last she spoke. 

“ I do just ’ mire to watch you philander- 
ing,” she said sweetly. 

“ Sh ” said Randy softly, but Prue’s 

speech had been plainly audible, and the 
artist turned in surprise as he said : 


68 


RANDY AND PRUE 


“ You like to see me doing what? I am 
painting , child.” 

Very innocently Prue looked up in his 
face as she answered : 

“ Well, I thought you was painting, ’cause 
I saw the pretty colors, but Phoebe’s father 
said you was philandering all the time, 
you ’n Phoebe, but Phoebe isn’t, ’cause she 
hasn’t any paints and brushes like what 
you’re doin’ it with.” 

Jack Blentmore turned a searching 
glance upon Prue, who, quite unaware that 
she had said anything which was aught but 
complimentary, looked up into his handsome 
dark eyes unflinchingly, and waited to see 
what he intended to say. She blinked in the 
sunlight, and mentally decided that he w T as 
not nearly as fine-looking as Jotham Potts, 

Randy stood with downcast eyes. “ Why 
did Prue make such queer speeches,” she 
thought, 

“ I knew that Mr. Small had a poor opin- 
ion of the fine arts, but I never got it quite 
as straight as that,” he said, with a laugh. 


RANDY IN A NEW ROLE 69 

“ Pa doesn’t ’predate the picture, because 
— he hasn’t seen it since it was just begun,” 
faltered Phoebe. She hoped that her 
father’s speech, which Prue had so ruth- 
lessly repeated, would not so wound the 
artist that he would leave the task incom- 
plete, but she did not know Jack Blentmore. 
He was simply amused at the rustic estimate 
of his ability, and quite determined to finish 
the picture, which promised to be a credit to 
his reputation for clever work. 

“If you continue to pose as well as you 
have this morning, I think the picture will 
be a success,” he said. “ Even your father 
may decide that it isn’t half bad, Miss 
Phoebe, when he sees it completed.” 

“ I’m ’most sure he will,” said Phoebe, 
with a smile, “ and ma said this morning 
that she hoped you’d stay long enough to 
finish it. She thinks it is just wonderful 
now.” 

“ It is truly lovely,” said Randy. “ I shall 
like to see it when it is quite done.” 

“ An’ I’ll just ’mire to,” said Prue, look- 


70 


RANDY AND PRUE 


ing over her shoulder, as Randy led her 
gently toward the path. Randy would have 
been delighted to have watched the artist 
longer, but she felt that their conversation 
might confuse him. He was evidently mak- 
ing an earnest study of his work, and while 
very genial and courteous, Randy believed 
that he would like to paint for a time with- 
out interruption, so, promising to stroll 
down to the spring some other morning, she 
urged Prue to follow her, and together they 
hastened up the path toward home. Prue 
skipped along, chattering incessantly ; 
Randy, whose mind was filled with thoughts 
of the painting which they had just seen, 
paid little heed to her prattle until Prue in- 
sisted upon being answered. 

“ You don’t hear me when I talk,” she 
cried. “ I say, which was the painter man 
doin’? Was he truly painting, like he said 
he was, or was he philandering, same’s Mr. 
Small said? ” 

“ Now, Prue, you must not say that again. 
Mr. Small ought never to have said it. Mr. 


RANDY IN A NEW ROLE 71 
Blentmore was painting, and I think that I 
never saw a lovelier picture,” said Randy. 

“ Well,” persisted Prue, “ I wonder if 
Phoebe’s father knows he oughtn’t to have 
said it? I b’lieve I’ll ask him next time I 
see him.” 

Randy refrained from offering further re- 
buke. In all probability Prue would forget 
all about both picture and painter before 
she again met Mr. Small. 

Prue ran around the corner to find Tabby 
and her kittens, and Randy entered the 
house. Aunt Prudence sat by the window, 
a letter in her hand, which she had evidently 
been reading. The envelope lay upon the 
floor at her feet, and her attitude and ex- 
pression betokened perplexity. Randy 
crossed the room, picked up the envelope, 
and placing it in Aunt Prudence’s lap, sat 
down upon a low stool beside her. 

“ What is it, Aunt Prudence? ” she asked, 
“ something in your letter which troubles 
you? ” 

“ Well, Randy,” said Aunt Prudence, “ I 


72 


BANDY AND PRUE 


must say the letter pesters me some. While 
I’ve been here I’ve had Jake Somersworth 
and his wife at work on my place, an’ I flat- 
tered myself that things was progressin’ 
stupendous, when, all of a sudden, Jake’s de- 
cided ter quit farmin’, an’ his wife’s con- 
cluded that she needs a rest, and is goin’ ter 
her mother’s. That means that I’ve got ter 
go home an’ take a hand, hire new help, an’, 
in short, keep things a-runnin’. I wouldn’t 
mind that so much, but yer mother can’t 
spare me, an’ between thinkin’ I can’t leave, 
an’ knowin’ I ought ter, I’m in a state er 
mind.” 

“ Why, Aunt Prudence,” said Kandy, 
“ I’m here, and I’m able to be more helpful 
than you think.” 

“ I know you’re willin’, Randy,” Aunt 
Prudence answered, “ but ye haven’t had the 
experience ter take the runnin’ of the house 
on yer shoulders. Dr. Bushnell says yer nia’s 
health is all right, but she’s sort er tired 
like, an’ I told him I’d stay an’ be house- 
keeper this winter, an’ let her help me about 


BANDY IN A NEW BOLE 73 
the light work, but my plan seems ’baout 
upset.” 

Kandy, drawing her stool nearer, laid her 
hand upon Aunt Prudence’s arm as she 
eagerly asked : 

“ He did truly say that mother was only 
tired? Did he say that with more rest and 
less work she would regain her strength? I 
knew that she looked different in some way, 
but I thought that she had missed me, and 
that that made her smile less cheerful. Why 
didn’t I know that she was getting tired, 
without waiting for someone to tell me? ” 

“ Ye’ve no cause ter blame yerself, 
Randy,” said Aunt Prudence, with unusual 
gentleness, laying her hand upon the pretty 
head. “ Ye’re a pattern girl, Randy, an’ haow 
ye do love them that ye care for at all ! Ye 
needn’t look harassed, fer I shan’t leave my 
brother’s home when I’m needed in it, even 
ef my own little place stands idle fer a spell. 
All yer ma needs is rest, an’ I mean ter help 
her ter git it.” 

Still leaning against Aunt Prudence, 


74 RANDY AND PRZJE 

Randy sat very still, studying the problem 
from all sides. At last she looked up, a 
bright light in her eyes, and a tender smile 
parting her lips. 

“ I will be housekeeper myself /’ she an- 
nounced, “ and you shall be free to go and 
set things straight in your own little home. 
We shall miss you, Aunt Prudence, it is such 
a comfort to have you with us ; but you are 
anxious about the farm, and truly I know 
that I can be a fine housekeeper. Fll ask 
father to get someone to do the heavy work, 
and then Pll be the manager, and ever so 
grandly Fll tell mother that she may help 
me about some of the little tasks which can- 
not tire her. Oh, I shall write and invite 
you to visit me, Aunt Prudence, and when 
you come you will say, ‘ Well, really, the 
house looks quite nice, considering that only 
a girl takes charge of it.’ ” 

Randy clasped her hands, and a triumph- 
ant little smile made her face radiant. She 
knew that it was promising to undertake a 
great task, but in her eagerness to do it will- 


RANDY IN A NEW ROLE 


75 


ingly and lovingly, she felt that it was pos- 
sible to accomplish it with much credit to 
herself, and a world of comfort for the 
mother whom she loved so dearly. 

“ Blessings on ye, Randy,” said Aunt 
Prudence, “ Fm more sure of yer success 
than Fm able ter say. Fll make a flyin’ 
trip home, an’ when I’ve set things straight 
there, I’ll come back to ye, an’ I’m sure I’ll 
find things in fine order here. Ye possess 
ambition, an’ a lovin’ heart, an’ the two will 
gen’rally ’complish wonders.” 

“ When you goin’ to fly, Aunt Prudence? ” 
asked Prue, as she peeped in at the window ; 
“ I want to see you doin’ it.” 

“ Land sakes, child ! Haow ye made me 
jump ! It’s a wonder ye didn’t make me fly, 
an’ aout er my wits at that,” was the 
startled answer. 

“ Oh, I wish you had ! It would have been 
fine to have seen you,” said Prue, with the 
air of one who had missed a fine exhibition. 

That night at tea Randy said abruptly : 

“ What would you think, father, if I 


BANDY AND PRUE 


76 

should say that I intended to try my hand 
at housekeeping for a few weeks? ” 

With a merry twinkle in his kind blue 
eyes he answered : “ I should say that Randy 
Weston, as I know her, could accomplish 
’most anything she set her mind on.” He 
laughed softly as he saw the color brighten 
in Randy’s cheeks. Aunt Prudence had told 
him of the letter which she had received, and 
of Randy’s determination to take the care 
of the household upon her own young shoul- 
ders for a time. Mrs. Weston looked from 
Randy to her husband, and again at Randy, 
with such a bewildered expression upon her 
gentle face that Randy could keep her secret 
no longer. 

“ Well, I declare,” exclaimed Mrs. Weston, 
when the plan was unfolded, “ the idea of 
lettin’ Randy try ter be housekeeper, while 
I take a rest. Why, father, she’s only just 
out er school, and I’m only tired. I’m not 
sick so but I’m able ter keep on ’til Aunt 
Prudence comes back.” 

“ Naow, mother,” said Mr. Weston, “ ye 


BANDY IN A NEW ROLE 77 
better listen a spell ’til I tell ye all some- 
thing ye don’t know. 

“ Sister Prudence told me ’baout Randy’s 
plan this afternoon, an’ I thought so well 
of it that, right on the spur of the moment, 
’thout askin’ yer permission, so ter speak, 
I drove over ter Jim Flanders, an’ hired 
Philury, an’ she’s ter be Randy’s right-hand 
helper, an’ she’s glad er the chance. She’s 
strong an’ willin’, a good combination, I tell 
ye.” 

“ Why, father,” said Randy, “ I’d rather 
have her to help me than anyone I know of, 
she’s so good-tempered and cheery, and, as 
you say, so strong.” 

“ She sent word ter ye, Randy, that ye’d 
have precious little ter do after she arrived. 
She’ll be here a few days ’fore yer Aunt 
Prudence goes, ter git the hang er things; 
and, mother, ye’ll have a chance ter play fine 
lady fer a spell,” he continued, “ while 
Randy shows us how she proposes ter 
d’rect Philury.” 

His speech ended in a chuckle, and, after 


HANDY AND FREE 


78 

some remonstrance, Mrs. Weston agreed 
that, after all, the plan was a wise one, and 
likely to be a success. 

Philury Flanders, as she was familiarly 
called, was what might best be described as 
robust. She was tall, with broad shoulders 
and a generous waist, and an arm and hand 
which bespoke strength rather than beauty. 
Her large round face was ever smiling, and 
her hair, which she called auburn, was gen- 
erally described as red. The fact that it 
was of a fine bronze tint quite escaped the 
attention of her village friends, and they 
continued to look upon it with aversion and 
pity. What could be more undesirable than 
to be a red-haired girl? 

She had promised to arrive promptly on 
Wednesday morning, and true to her word, 
lust as the kitchen clock struck seven, Jim 
Flanders drove up to the door, and Phil- 
ury alighted, a carpet-bag in one hand 
and a large cotton umbrella in the 
other. 


BANDY IN A NEW ROLE 79 

“ Good-morning ! ” she cried ; “ here I be, 
jest as I promised, on the dot er seven, too. 
All my belongings are in this ere bag, an’ 
my ambrill ’ll keep me dry of a Sunday ef 
it chances ter rain.” 

She set her umbrella in a corner of the 
kitchen, and her bag in front of it, lest it 
might fall; then, turning to Mrs. Weston, 
she said : 

“ I beared Randy’s ter be mistress fer a 
spell. Now, I’ve ’rived all ready fer work, 
so who’ll give me d’rections haow ter per- 
ceed? ” She laughed as she said it, and her 
mirth was infectious. 

“ I believe I’ll let Randy try her hand at 
managing ter-day,” said Mrs. Weston, “ fer 
I see she’s anxious ter prove her ability, an’ 
do you help her ter plan, as well as ter work. 
She’s young and inexperienced, but she’s set 
her mind on helpin’ me ter get rested. I 
know that ye’re a master hand at workin’, 
Philury, an’ ye’ve a deal er good sense as 
well, so I’ll let ye try with Randy an’ see 
what ye’ll ’complish ; but I’ll say right naow, 


80 BANDY AND PRUE 

that I know ye’ll do well, an’ I’m glad ter 

have ye with us.” 

“ Will you bake me some gingerbread rab- 
bits same ’s Aunt Prudence does?” asked 
Prue. 

Philury dearly loved children, and Prue 
was her especial favorite. Taking the little 
girl in her strong arms she said : 

“ I’ll make ye a hull Noah’s Ark full er 
gingerbread critters the fust day we bake, 
’though I shouldn’t wonder if ’twould be 
hard ter tell t’other from which, unless 
they’re labeled.” 


CHAPTER V 


JABEZ BRIMBLECOM VISITS COUSIN SABRINY 

The leafy branches met overhead as if in 
greeting, and the warm summer sunlight 
flickered through the leaves, now green, now 
golden, a fairy network of sunshine and 
shade. Rambling stone walls bounded the 
roadside, and over their moss-grown sides 
the barberry and wild rosebushes swung 
their branches as if offering protection from 
wind or rain. 

The roses were gone, but upon the 
branches of the barberry tiny clusters of 
green berries gave promise of a fine harvest 
of scarlet fruit with the coming of autumn. 
The low, trailing blackberry vines crept 
along over the grass at the base of the wall ; 
and here and there a belated white blossom 
looked askance at the small fruit upon the 
81 


82 RANDY AND PRUE 

same stem, which had thus far gained but 

a pale red from the sun. 

Later it would be black, but the blossom 
did not know that. 

Thick dust lay upon their leaves, and upon 
the white clover, which had grown out into 
the road to ask the sunbeams for a kiss, and 
in all the village there was no lovelier spot 
than this — the main road to the Centre. 

An old chaise came leisurely rattling 
along, and Dr. Bushnell leaned forward to 
drink in the fresh air, and to feast upon the 
beauty spread before him. In his hand he 
held a long whip, which never touched Sor- 
rel’s back but for one purpose — to remove 
an impertinent fly. 

“ Well, well, but this is a fine morning,” 
he said, apparently addressing everything in 
general. “ Fine morning, an’ no mistake. 

“ I guess I’ll pick a few blossoms an’ take 
’em home. ’Twill be like transplantin’ a 
bit of the beauty hereabaouts.” The genial 
old doctor had contracted a habit of talking 
to himself when, as he said, “ he had no bet- 


JABEZ VISITS SABRINY 


83 


ter company ; ” and as he gathered the long 
spikes of butter-and-cheese and a few pink 
and white clovers he recounted those items 
which had interested him in the morning’s 
batch of news. 

“ Fine notion, that of Jabez Brimble- 
com’s, ter find aout when his cousin Sabriny 
Boardman was thinkin’ of startin’ fer her 
Boston home, an’ go with her, so’s ter see 
to it that she didn’t change her mind an’ 
decide ter make him a longer visit.” He 
laughed softly as he continued : “ A pretty 
dance she led him an’ his wife. Jabez is 
good-natured, but he vaows he’ll git even, 
an’ I shouldn’t wonder ef he did.” 

A large clump of the yellow blossoms 
tempted him, and he trudged toward them, 
old Sorrel following and taking occasional 
nips at the grass. 

“ Fine flowers, those,” said the doctor, 
holding them off at arm’s length, and mak- 
ing a telescope of his other hand, through 
which to view them. 

“ There’s Square Weston’s Bandy start- 


84 RANDY AND PRUE 

ing aout to run the haouse, while Philury 
Flanders furnishes the muscle for the ac- 
tooal work. Randy’s a great girl, full of 
love, ambition, and pluck. Pretty as a pic- 
tur, I must say. I told her I admired her 
vim; told her ’twas jest the thing ter make 
her ma spry again, an’ shook hands with 
Philury an’ wished her good luck in her new 
place. Don’t I remember the day last sum- 
mer when she declared she could beat any 
er the boys a-gittin’ in hay. They stumped 
her, an’ she pitched in, with the result that 
she got the first load started toward the 
barn, the sassy chaps all j’inin’ in a chorus, 
singing : 

“ ‘ Philury, Philury, 

Ye work like all fury.' M 

Haow she did laugh ; I can ’most hear her 
naow.” He chuckled at the remembrance. 

Having gathered a fine handful of the 
blossoms, he clambered into the chaise and 
once more jogged along the road. 

“ Lots goin’ on in the place naow,” he 
said, resuming his monologue. “Phoebe 


JABEZ VISITS SABRINY 85 
Small a-standin’ aout in the sun when it’s 
hotter ’n blazes jest ter let that there painter 
feller daub a lot er paint onto a pictur er 
her. I shouldn’t wonder ef somethin’ ’sides 
the paint and brushes interested her, ’tho he 
can’t be much of er man. The idee of an 
able-bodied feller like him a settin’ raound 
an’ foolin’ with paints. Wonder ef he ever 
crochets or knits? ” 

Evidently the good doctor’s idea of a 
manly fellow’s occupation was that it should 
be muscular or professional. That painting 
could be a profession, he never dreamed. To 
him the term embraced but two things — law 
or medicine. 

Arrived at the Centre, the doctor thought 
of an errand which his wife had charged 
him to remember, and leading Sorrel to the 
cool shadow beneath the willow tree, he laid 
upon the carriage seat the wild flowers 
which he had gathered and climbed the rick- 
ety steps and entered Barnes’ store. Appar- 
ently something of great interest was about 
to occur. Nate Burnham sat in the niche 


86 RANDY AND PRUE 

behind the rusty stove, a position which he 
habitually occupied both summer and win- 
ter. His hands were clasped about his 
knees, and his mouth was wide open as if to 
entrap any stray bit of gossip which his ears 
failed to catch. 

Upon a large keg sat a young farmer who, 
from time to time, helped himself to a craker 
from the open barrel beside him. He as- 
sumed a thoughtful expression, as if wishing 
it to be understood that he took the crackers 
in a moment of abstraction, and not at all 
because he needed a lunch. 

Sandy McLeod stood near the doorway. 
A merry twinkle in his eyes betokened his 
interest in the subject of conversation, but 
while he listened attentively to the com- 
ments of the others, he expressed no opinion, 
seeming rather to be reserving his remarks 
until all had aired their views, when his 
should cap the climax. 

Jim Flanders leaned against the window- 
frame, industriously braiding three long 
straws together, while Silas Barnes, the pro- 


JABEZ VISITS SABRINY 


87 


prietor, stood in the center of the group, 
punctuating his remarks by smartly tapping 
his left hand with a yellow envelope which 
he held in his right. 

Joel Simpkins had driven over to the 
station to await an incoming train which 
should bring a parcel of goods for the store, 
and the doctor, seeing that he could not at 
once receive the attention of proprietor or 
clerk, joined the group of listeners around 
Silas Barnes. 

“ J abez is cute, I tell ye,” he was saying, 
“ an’ of all his tricks this is the beatenest. 
I told him he’d got his cousin Sabriny 
Boardman fer a steady thing this summer, 
an’, says I, ‘ I’m sorry fer ye, Jabez, fer I 
know she’s a case, and no mistake; but I’m 
even sorrier fer yer good wife. Sabriny 
wasn’t no joke at short range when she was 
Sabriny Brimblecom, but naow she’s Mis’ 
C. Barnard Boardman she’s ’nough sight 
wuss,’ an’ says he, ‘ Don’t ye be too sure of 
what ye say, Silas,’ says he, ‘ fer I’m plan- 
nin’ ter live up ter the good old sayin’ which 


88 RANDY AND PRUE 

bids us ter speed the partin’ guest/ and 

then he chuckled as he went off up the 

road. 

“ It seems Sabriny got onto a pooty high 
hoss, an’ after a reg’lar tantrum that made 
Mis’ Brimblecom ’baout sick, Jabez didn’t 
actooally tell her ter go, but he did kind er 
int’mate that she needn’t feel ' bilged ter 
stay.” 

“ An Jabez could jest do that,” chuckled 
old Nate Burnham, “ he could alius put er 
thing so’s ter make it plain.” 

“ ’N he says he couldn’t write ter all of 
ye, but he tells me ter tell ye haow his 
plan succeeded, ’n I do’no’s there’s any 
harm in readin’ ye his letter,” concluded 
Barnes. 

“ Let’s hey it, Silas,” said Jim Flanders; 
“ Mis’ Boardman undertook ter snub my 
Philury, an’ I’d like ter hear what Jabez has 
got ter say ’baout his visit.” 

Silas Barnes adjusted his glasses, cleared 
his throat, and opening the letter com- 
menced to read : 


JABEZ VISITS SABRINY 


“ Friend Barnes : 

“ I take my pen in hand, an’ haow else 
could I take it, ter tell ye that I arriv in 
Boston in comp’ny with cousin Sabriny, an’ 
I’m naow high an’ dry in her flat, I say 
high an dry, fer I was some s’prised ter find 
she lived in a tenement (no, she won’t hev 
that), it’s a apartment haouse, an’ I guess 
they call it a flat ’cause the pesky thing has 
got a flat roof, an’ the heat pours daown on 
us like blazes ! The only cool thing in sight 
is the fact er me insistin’ on cornin’ home 
with her, an’ she hoppin’ mad ter leave our 
farm at all. 

“ I hev ter laugh when I think haow I left 
the water runnin’ in the bowl the fust day 
I got here. Nobody knew it fer much as an 
hour. Sabriny came flyin’ at me, an’ says 
she: 

“ ‘ You’ve left the water runnin’ ! ’ 

“ ‘ Be ye short er water, so’s ye hev ter 
be keerful? ’ says I. 

“ ‘ Ef ye come an’ look at the floor I guess 
ye won’t think that water is scarce,’ she an- 
swered, kind er tart like. I didn’t do that 
a-purpose, but she was jist as mad as ef I’d 
planned it. Whilst she was with us she 
faound consid’able fault with the food. 


90 


HANDY AND PRUE 


Naow I think we set aour table pooty gen- 
’rous, so I thought I’d let her see haow it 
seemed ter ent’tain a grumbler. 

“ Ef my wife had been with me, she’d 
a-put a stop ter my doin’s. As ’twas, I did 
as I see fit. I didn’t intend ter be too mean, 
but jest ter give Sabriny a leetle taste er 
what she’d been givin’ us. She’s been ter 
cookin’-school, and fixed up all sorts er 
leetle messes that she calls fancy, an’ I call 
foolish. 

“ One day she made some things she 
called croquettes. Pesky little thiugs with 
a piece er green weed stuck a-top of it. I 
pulled the green stuff off er mine. She 
wanted ter know why. 

“ ‘ ’Cause,’ says I, ‘ I never eat greens 
raw, I prefer ’em biled.’ 

“ She wouldn’t answer, but the next day, 
when she set a plate before me with some- 
thing minced er hashed, I picked it apart an’ 
put on my glasses an’ peeked inter it. 

“ i Jabez Brimblecom, what be ye doin’? ’ 
says she, reel exasperated. 

“ ‘ I’m a leetle pertic’lar what I eat,’ says 
I, c an’ I vaow I’d like ter know what this 
’ere is made of.’ I wouldn’t a-done it, 
but she’d pestered us ’til we was ’baout 


JABEZ VISITS SABRINY 91 

wild. There’s no doubt but Sabriny was 
mad. 

“ ‘ Jabez Brimblecom/ she screamed, ‘ ye 
may jest eat what I set before ye.’ 

“ 4 Pm a-goin’ ter, sence there’s nothin’ 
else/ says I, i an’ I’ll thank ye ter do the 
same when next ye set aout ter visit us.’ 

“ 6 1 do’no’ when I’ll come agin/ says she, 
an’ it occurred ter me that there was alius 
something ter be thankful fer. 

“I’m cornin’ home come Thursday; I’m 
sort er tired er my visit, an’ I know Sabriny 
is. 

“ Yours fer luck, 

“ Jabez Brimblecom.” 

The group around Silas Barnes had lis- 
tened attentively until the last word of the 
characteristic letter had been read, when 
their restrained merriment burst forth in 
uproarious laughter, and old Nate Burnham 
afterward declared that “ their racket rat- 
tled the crock’ry on the shelves.” 

“ Wal, I’m glad ter hear that somebody 
sot daown on some er her fine notions,” re- 
marked Jim Flanders, “ fer she see my 
darter Philury at church in her Sunday 


92 RANDY AND PRUE 

clothes, an’ she took the op’tunity ter 
say : 

“ 6 Ye’re a pooty good-lookin’ gal, Philury, 
’cept that ye’re some countrified.’ 

“ My darter was mad, an’ I didn’t blame 
her when she said : 

“ ‘ I didn’t ask fer yer ’pinion, an’ I 
do’no’ as ye want mine, but I’ll return yer 
compliment by tellin’ ye, Mis’ Boardman, 
that ye ’pear pooty well, ’cept that ye’re 
somewhat imperlite.’ 

“ Sabriny said that she couldn’t be 6 crit- 
tersized,’ ’cause she got her ettyket out er a 
book, and Philury said she reelized that 
while perliteness come nat’ral ter some 
folks, ’twas quite a stunt fer others ter 
learn.” 

The young farmer who occupied the keg 
helped himself to another cracker as he 
asked : 

“ What’s her husband’s bus’ness, that he 
can ’low Sabriny ter spend so much on 
clothes jest ter cut a swath in the Tillage, 
an’ ’stonish us all?” 


JABEZ VISITS SABRINY 93 

“ I do’no'," said Silas Barnes. “ I asked 
her oncet, and she said something 'baout his 
bein' ‘ on the sidewalk ' an' 1 sellin' on the 
street,' an' as innocent as yer please, I said : 

“ 1 Oh, yes, peddlin’ garden truck,' an' she 
nearly took my head off, so 't I didn’t dares’t 
ter ask any more 'baout it." 

“ She was sae grand an' a' that I thought 
of a balloon when e'er I sat my een on her, 
an' I hae been on the same road wi’ her when 
I' ye questioned if there’ d be room for we twa 
ter pass wi'out freection," said Sandy 
McLeod, “but she hae doubtless her gude 
points." 

“ Wal, they don't stand aout in humps," 
said old Nate Burnham, with a chuckle. 

“ Jabez is a gret feller," said Silas Barnes, 
“ one er the best men that ever lived, an' one 
er the cutest." 

At this point Johnny Buffum ran in at 
the door, shouting excitedly. 

“ Is Dr. Bushnell in here? 'cause he’s got 
ter come over ter ol' Mr. Simpkins's this 
minute." 


94 RANDY AND PRUE 

“ Here I am, my boy,” said the doctor, 
“ what’s the matter over there? ” 

“ Ye mustn’t wait a minute,” cried 
Johnny, his eyes wild with excitement. 

“ Timotheus lias tumbled onto his head, 
an’ they say he’s busted it. 01’ Mis’ Simp- 
kins is er wringin’ her hands an’ do’no’ what 
ter do, an’ I got ter go ’n git Mis’ Hodgkins 
ter come ’n tell her. Mis’ Hodgkins knows 
everything ; ” and having seen the doctor’s 
chaise rattling up the road, he scampered 
off at high speed to find the village “ know- 
all.” 

Dr. Bushnell had forgotten his errand at 
the store, and the wild flowers which he had 
gathered for his wife lay unnoticed upon the 
seat beside him, as he gently urged Sorrel 
to hasten over the hot, dusty road toward 
the Simpkins farm. 

That Johnny Buffum might have exag- 
gerated Timotheus’ mishap never occurred 
to him, and in his anxiety to reach his pa- 
tient, the road seemed to have gained length 
since he had last driven over it. Arrived 


JABEZ VISITS SABRINY 


95 


at the house, he was met by old Mr. Simp- 
kins, who hastened down the path to meet 
him. 

“ It’s a awful accident,” he cried, gestic- 
ulating wildly, “ an’ it all comes er Timo- 
theus er-havin’ a tremenjous big head. The 
poor fellow was up in the loft, er elocutin’ 
somethin’ what he’d jest writ. I was daown 
on the barn floor a watchin’ his fine gesturs, 
when all to oncet, bein’s I say, top-heavy, 

he pitched over, an’ daown onto the floor 

* 

head fust, an’ I’m most afeared his head’s 
actooally busted. Jest come in an’ look at 
him ; he ain’t known anything sence he fell. 
His intellec’ reely tipped him over.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins had hastened across the 
pasture which lay between her own home 
and the Simpkins farm, and having 
shrewdly guessed that simple remedies 
might cause Timotheus to regain conscious- 
ness, she applied some home-made restora- 
tives, and when Dr. Bushnell entered the 
room, the young man opened his eyes. His 
first words were quite characteristic of him, 


96 BANDY AND PRUE 

and the good old doctor found it difficult to 

hide his amusement. 

“ D’ye think any er my brains got spilt? ” 
he asked. 

“ I ain’t examined the barn yet,” said the 
doctor dryly. “ Jest naow I think I’ll have 
a look at yer head. 

“ Ye’re all right, ’cept a shakin’ up,” he 
announced later, when, having carefully ex- 
amined Timotheus, he found neither broken 
bones nor dislocation. 

“ Ye’ll be lame an’ stiff, an’ some black 
an’ blue, but ye’ll be all right in a day er 
two.” 

“ Wal, I wonder what ye think er Timo- 
theus’ head naow? ” Joel asked derisively. 
“ Any other head would er been busted with 
such a whack as that,” 

“ Joel,” said old Mr. Simpkins, impres- 
sively, “ your head couldn’t ’a’ stood it. 
Holler things bust easy. Timotheus’ head 
is chuck full ! ” 


CHAPTER VI 


THE BURNING OF THE MILL 

“ There's no place in the haouse like this 
settin’-room, Randy,” said Mrs. Weston, as 
she drew the large rocker to the window, 
and seated herself in it, leaning luxuriously 
against its cushions. “ An' it’s all your 
doin’s,” she continued, “ fer the minute ye 
reached home ye commenced fixin’ this an’ 
that, ’til nobody ’d know the room was the 
same old settin’-room we used ter hev. I’m 
sure I don’t want ter be anywhere else, it’s 
so cheerful like. Sometimes I think it rests 
me jest ter set still and look ’raound. Yer 
father’s so pleased with yer efforts ter beau- 
tify the place, he talks er little else, an’ this 
mornin’, ’fore you was up, he walked in here 
an’, says he, ‘ This looks somethin’ like.’ ” 

“ It would be worth any amount of work 
and planning to see you and father so 
97 


98 BANDY AND PRUE 

pleased,” Randy answered, as she put the 
last stitch into a bright cover for a sofa 
cushion, and then proceeded to draw it on 
over the plain cotton pillow which lay upon 
the lounge. 

Indeed Randy had accomplished much 
when she had converted a bare, uninterest- 
ing room into a cozy, inviting retreat toward 
which every member of the household turned 
for rest and cheer. The floor had been 
newly painted, and a large carpet rug had 
been brought from Boston by Silas Barnes, 
after he had received countless injunctions 
regarding color and design. The walls had 
been hung with paper which harmonized 
with the colors in the rug; a fine, large 
rocker had been chosen for Mrs. Weston, 
and several chairs had been added to the 
furnishings. 

The old lounge boasted a bright covering 
of flowered cretonne, as well as a wealth of 
gay cushions, and upon the walls hung sev- 
eral etchings and reproductions of water- 
colors which Helen Dayton had given Randy 


BURNING OF THE MILL 99 
during her stay in Boston. “ They will 
brighten your rooms,” she had said, and she 
had spoken truly. 

Out in the kitchen Philury Flanders 
worked as if work were the only thing worth 
living for, and as she bustled about from 
one task to another, she lifted her sonorous 
voice in song : 

“ The better the day, the better the deed, 

The hotter the sun, the taller the weed, 

For reel hard work I can’t be beat, 

There don’t no grass grow under my feet.” 

A jolly laugh followed this unique verse. 
Evidently Philury had been improvising. 

Randy and her mother softly echoed the 
laughter. 

“ She’s just a blessin’,” said Mrs. Weston. 
“ She does everything so cheerful an’ willin’, 
an’ you take every care off my mind, Randy. 
I never would b’lieve a girl jest aout er 
school could take hold an’ manage things as 
ye’ve proved ye’re able to. I only hope I 
shan’t get shiftless, havin’ things made so 
easy fer me.” 

“ Oh, mother, the idea of your acquiring 
L.ofC. 


100 


BANDY AND PBUE 


a shiftless disposition, 1 ” said Randy, with a 
laugh ; “ you could not if you wished to. 
You will get rested, and feel like your old 
self, but father says that you shall stay 
rested, for Philury is to be with us, to do all 
the heavy work.” 

Again the voice from the kitchen made it- 
self heard: 

“ The hotter the sun, the cooler the shade, 

Sugar an’ lemons ’ll make lemonade; 

The cooler the shade, the hotter the sun; 

Ye don’t caount yer cookies ’til bakin’ is done.” 

Surely the muse had Philury in her 
clutches. 

“ Did you ever hear such tunes as she 
sings? ” asked Randy. 

“ The words she must make up as she goes 
along, an’ I guess ’t wouldn’t be rash ter say 
that the tunes was home manufacture,” Mrs. 
Weston replied, laughing heartily with 
Randy. 

Soon an animated conversation was in 
progress. Evidently Prue was giving direc- 
tions, and Philury endeavoring to compre- 
hend their meaning. 


BURNING OF THE MILL 


101 


“ Well, if lie’s to be a very nice boy, his 
feets mus’n’t be bigger ’n his head, an’ the 
girl’s apron doesn’t show now she’s fryin’,” 
complained Prue. 

“ Naow, don’t ye worry, Prne, they’ll be 
beauties when they’re done, sure’s my 
name’s Philury Flanders.” 

“ Oh ! oh, see his toes a-turnin’ in ! 
What ’ll we do, Philury? ” cried Prue in 
great excitement. 

“ Let ’em turn,” said Philury. “ Some 
gret folks has been ’bliged ter walk a-toein’ 
in. My gret Uncle Ichabodwas alius a-stum- 
blin’ over his own toes, but as long’s he tum- 
bled into riches, nobody ever thought much 
’baout it, an’ my cousin Bim’lech Shackle- 
ford’s one er the first men in his taown, bein’ 
’lowed ter caount the votes on ’lection day, 
an’ janitor ter the taown hall ; think er that! 
an’ him a-toein’ in like a crab! I tell ye, 
Prue, that boy’s been gittin’ han’somer every 
minute he’s been a,-fryin’, an’ naow run an’ 
git yer own little plate an’ I’ll take him an’ 
the girl aout fer ye. I’ll put some paow- 


102 BANDY AND PRUE 

dered sugar onto the girl’s apron; that ’ll 

make it show up fine.” 

Evidently the experiment proved to be a 
success, for little shouts of delight an- 
nounced Prue’s approval. “ See! see! ” she 
cried, rushing excitedly into the sitting- 
room, her plate grasped firmly in both dim- 
pled hands, “ this is Kandy and Jotham just 
beautifully fried ! Why, you mus’n’t laugh, 
Randy; they ain’t funny. Jotham’s toes 
turns in some, an’ your face is fried browner 
on one side than the other, but you’re both 
beautiful, an’ fine to eat.” 

“ They look very tempting,” said Randy. 
“ I was not laughing at the figures, I was 
only thinking how funny it sounded when 
you said that Randy and Jotham had been 
fried.” 

“ Well, ’t wasn’t truly you,” Prue an- 
swered, as gravely as if the explanation were 
necessary. At her earnest request Mrs. 
Weston and Randy tasted the cakes, and 
little Prue, seating herself upon the floor 
with the plate in her lap, was rapidly demol- 


BURNING OF THE MILL 103 
ishing the fried effigies of Randy and Jo- 
tham, when someone came hurrying up the 
path to the door. Without pausing to 
knock, a young lad rushed into the kitchen, 
where Philury, with her back toward the 
door, was carefully taking the sizzling 
doughnuts from the kettle. 

“Where’s Square Weston?” he shouted, 
and Philury, with a cry and a frantic jump, 
landed her doughnuts upon the floor. 

“ Why in creation did ye shout so, Bob 
Witherspoon?” cried the irate girl; “ain’t 
that a pretty mess fer me ter clear 
up?” 

“ I’m paowerful sorry,” the lad replied, 
“ jest paowerful sorry, I tell ye, but they’s 
difficulty daown at the mill, an’ they told me 
ter run fer Square Weston, the only man the 
fellers will listen ter.” 

“ Wal, ye did scare me, but I s’pose I kin 
say I spilt the doughnuts myself,” Philury 
answered, her good nature, as usual, assert- 
ing itself ; “ an’ as ter the Square, he’s daown 
in the medder lot. Said he’d stay there ’til 


104 BANDY AND PRUE 

dinner-time, an’ p’raps later. What’s the 
bother at the mill? ” she called after his re- 
ceding figure. 

Bob turned, and as he ran toward the 
meadow, shouted something in reply, but 
the fresh breeze carried his words in another 
direction, so Philury was no wiser than if 
he had not answered. 

In the kitchen, Philury busied herself 
with collecting her scattered cakes and 
clearing away the hot fat which had been 
freely spattered, until at last the room pre- 
sented the spotless aspect which delighted 
her orderly soul. 

In the sitting-room, Randy and her 
mother wondered what the difficulty at the 
mill might be. That Squire Weston should 
have been sent for to help quell the disturb- 
ance was not at all surprising. He was well 
known in his own village and in the sur- 
rounding towns as being an honest, kind- 
hearted man; one who was sufficiently just 
to look at both sides of a question, and 
whose sympathy was with employer or work- 


BURNING OF THE MILL 105 

man, according as his sense of right 
directed. 

“ I can’t think what sort er disturbance 
it can be,” said Mrs. Weston. “ I do wish 
everybody didn’t feel that whenever a little 
thing vexes ’em, er their help gets trouble- 
some, they must send fer yer father ter come 
and straighten things aout. Not but that I 
like ter think that all the people hereabaouts 
value his judgment, but when it comes ter 
the men at the mill, I don’t like it. Martin 
Meers an’ his son are all well ’nough, but I 
don’t like the looks er that Canadian they’ve 
hired, an’ that big German — what’s his 
name, Randy? ” 

“ Orlando Steubenreiser,” said Randy. 
“ That is his name, and why Prue isn’t 
afraid of him, I can’t see. I know he seems 
to be gentle with her, but he is such a giant, 
and he glowers at one in such a fierce way, 
that I believe any child but Prue would 
hardly dare to speak to him.” 

At dinner Mr. Weston seemed pre-occu- 
pied, and Randy watched him closely, wish- 


106 


BANDY AND PRUE 


in g, yet hesitating, to question him. At last, 
when Prue slipped from her chair and asked 
permission to run out and feed Tabby and 
her kittens, Mrs. Weston smiled and nodded 
assent. Then, turning to her husband, she 
asked : “ Why did Martin Meers send fer ye, 
father? What’s goin’ on daown at the mill, 
an’ why couldn’t he settle it himself? ” 

“ I don’t like the looks er things daown 
there any more than Meers does,” Mr. 
Weston replied. 

“ The difficulty commenced when he hired 
the big German. Not but he’s peaceable 
’nough, but his looks are agin him, an’ the 
other men are inclined ter annoy him when 
they git the chance. He seems ter take it 
stoic-like, as if ’t was part er the job, but 
the little Canadian don’t take their twittin’ 
pleasantly, an’ ter make matters wuss, the 
hands that were born here declared to-day 
that they won’t work with furreigners, ef the 
mill stands still. I tried ter show ’em that 
they was standin’ in their own light, a-goin’ 
’thout wages ter pay fer bein’ obstinate; but 


BURNING OF THE MILL 107 
they won’t listen, an’ Meers is ’baout wild. 
While his mill ain’t runnin’ folks ’ll carry 
their grist ter the mill in the next taown, an’ 
p’raps git in a habit er goin’ there. Meers 
would give in, an’ hire other help in place er 
the two they object ter, but he says Steuben- 
reiser an’ the Canadian are the best men he’s 
ever had. Naow, while the men are daown 
on the Canadian an’ the German, the Can- 
adian himself is agin Steubenreiser, so he 
hasn’t a friend in the whole batch, and haow 
they’ll settle the thing is more’n I’m able ter 
say.” 

“ Why on airth can’t they work together, 
peaceable-like, gettin’ their wages, an’ taldn’ 
care er their fam’lies,” asked Mrs. Weston, 
“ instid er squabblin’ like a lot er silly 
boys? ” 

“ Well, I hope Meers won’t send fer ye 
agin, father, fer I don’t like ter hey ye mixed 
up in the quarrels er the men, even as peace- 
maker, fer when they’re so unreasonable 
there’s no tellin’ which way they’ll vent their 
wrath, ’specially ef they misunderstand ye, 


108 BANDY AND PRUE 

an’ choose ter think ye take sides with 

Meers.” 

“ Don’t ye worry, mother; they know that 
I talked fer their good, only they didn’t 
choose ter ’low it,” Mr. Weston replied, as 
he went out to resume work in the mea- 
dow. 

The sun shone in through the vine-cov- 
ered window and touched Prue’s soft curls 
as she sat upon the rug playing with the 
kittens. Tabby, who had enjoyed her din- 
ner, sat with her forepaws tucked snugly in, 
a picture of contentment. Through her 
half-shut eyes she placidly watched Prue, 
and Randy declared that Tabby’s motherly 
pride was flattered by the attention which 
her kittens were receiving. 

In the afternoon Belinda and Jemima 
Babson came over to see Randy, and Mrs. 
Hodgkins, with her usual batch of news, ar- 
rived at the same time, so that it happened 
that Prue, who wearied of their conversa- 
tion, ran out to play, and was not missed 
until tea time. 


BURNING OF THE MILL 


109 


“ I can’t think where next to hunt for her, 
mother,” said Randy. “ I’ve been down by 
the beehives, where she so often sits with 
Tabby, watching the bees, and trying to im- 
itate their humming. Her doll is on the 
grass under the hollyhocks, and her fairy 
book is lying on the doorstep, but I cannot 
find her, and I have called loudly every- 
where, yet she doesn’t answer.” 

It was not strange that Randy felt a bit 
anxious, for as she often said, “ One could 
always see or hear Prue.” 

The sunny little creature was almost in- 
variably to be seen, watching the bees and 
butterflies at play among the flowers, read- 
ing to Tabby fine tales from the fairy book, 
fishing in the brook with Johnny Buffum, 
the two little anglers armed with bent pins 
and a spool of thread, or sitting beside Mrs. 
McLeod listening to her stories and thread- 
ing her needles. If for the moment she was 
out of sight, one might, by listening, hear a 
merry little tune and easily trace the singer. 
This time she was not to be seen, nor was 


110 HANDY AND PRUE 

listening rewarded with a sound of her 
sweet voice. 

“ Supper’s all ready, Mis’ Weston,” an- 
nounced Philury, “ an’ do ye set daown, 
’stead er worryin’ baout Prue, fer I’ll run 
aout an’ be huntin’ fer her while yer eatin’.” 

Suiting the action to her words, she has- 
tened out on what proved to be a fruitless 
search, for she returned to say that Prue 
was not to be found in any one of her favor- 
ite haunts upon the farm. 

Then Mr. Weston, Randy, and Philury 
resumed the search, each going in a differ- 
ent direction, but when all had traversed the 
portion allotted, they met at the farmhouse 
door, and neither had found Prue. 

“ I’m ’baout wild ! ” said Mrs. Weston, 
and the Squire, for once, had no comfort to 
offer. Taking his hat and walking stick, he 
turned toward the door, when, in the gloom 
of the twilight, a little figure ran in to greet 
him. 

“ Look, father, look ! ” she cried, “ see the 
pretty boat Orlando’s just finished for me. 



A SILENT GROUP, THEY WATCHED THE ILLUMINED SKY Page 111 
























« 






- 







BURNING OF THE MILL 111 
It took him all the afternoon to whittle it, 
but it’s beautiful, isn’t it? He’s got a little 
sister Gretchen in Germany, an’ he used to 
make boats for her like this one. Why don’t 
you look at my pretty boat, father?” she 
asked in surprise, for the Squire, who held 
her in his arms, was looking beyond her, and 
over her head. He looked again, then turn- 
ing he said: “Wife! wife! The mill’s on 
fire ! ” 

They rushed to the door and looked out. 
The sky, which at twilight had been of 
a leaden hue, now burned with a dull red 
glare, which from time to time streamed 
higher, as if a giant were fanning the 
flames. 

A silent group, they watched the illu- 
mined sky; even Prue could find no words 
to express her thoughts, as wide-eyed and 
wondering she clung to her mother’s hand. 
At last Mr. Weston broke the silence. 

“ Bless me ! What on airth holds me here, 
when I ought to be daown at the mill a-tryin’ 
ter lend a hand? ” he exclaimed, drawing his 


112 BANDY AND PBUE 

hand across his brow as if waking, yet be- 
wildered by a hideous dream. 

The group in the doorway stood watching 
the sky long after Mr. Weston had left them, 
and scarcely a word was spoken until later 
the waning color told that the fire was burn- 
ing lower. Then, a quiet little group, they 
sat talking of the old mill, which had been 
standing ever since they could remember ; of 
Martin Meers, and the probable cost of re- 
building; of the discontented men whose 
contention had made their daily intercourse 
anything but pleasant; of the time which 
must necessarily elapse before they could, 
even if they chose, resume work to- 
gether. 

Even Philury’s hilarious spirit was sub- 
dued. The burning of the mill was not a 
matter to be thought of lightly, and with 
little Prue upon her lap, she sat looking out 
at the sky until a slow step upon the walk 
caused her to start, and Randy hastened 
toward the door. 

“ Why, father ! ” she exclaimed, “ I didn’t 


BURNING OF THE MILL 113 
know your step. Did they save any of the 
mill?” 

“ Burnt to the ground,” he answered, 
“ an’ Meers is wild ter know who set it. 
What, Prue not in bed yet? Well, p’raps 
it’s just as well this time. Come here to me, 
and bring your pretty boat. I couldn’t look 
at it when ye tried ter show it ter me, but 
I’ll see it naow.” 

Mrs. Weston looked at her husband in 
amazement. Why should he, who had but 
just returned from the burning mill, have 
so little to say about it? why did he so 
eagerly ask to see Prue’s new toy? She had 
not long to wonder. Taking his little 
daughter upon his lap, he examined the 
little craft which she placed in his hands, 
saying gently: 

“ That’s a pretty boat, Prue, a very nice 
little boat. Naow, little girl, ye say Orlando 
Steubenreiser made it fer ye? How long 
was he ’baout it? Try and remember.” 

“ Oh, ever so long,” answered Prue, “ all 
the afternoon, an’ ’til ’most dark. We sat 


114 


RANDY AND PRUE 


down by the big nut tree at the end of the 
lane, an’ I watched him make it. He just 
got it done, and walked ’most to our door 
with me, when I run in to show it to you, an’ 
you couldn’t look at it ’cause you said the 
mill was burnin’.” 

“ Naow, Prue, you must remember what 
ye’ve jest said, that it took him all that time 
ter make it, an’ he was back here at the door 
with ye when we see the light in the sky. 
Somebody may ask ye, little daughter, ef ye 
know where he was this afternoon, an’ I 
want ye should remember.” 

“ Oh, I couldn’t forget,” said Prue, 
“ ’cause he made my little boat for me.” 

“ The taown’s agin him, Prue; ye must be 
his little friend,” said her father. 

“ I will ” Prue answered, so firmly that 
Handy and her mother leaned forward to 
scan the little face. 

“ Did anything else happen ter make ye 
remember this day? ” he asked, as if anxious 
to strengthen the child’s memory. 

“Oh, yes,” said Prue. “Orlando made 


BURNING OF THE MILL 115 
my boat for me, an’ Philury fried me a 
doughnut boy an’ a doughnut girl, an’ when 
Bob Witherspoon ran in to ask where you 
was, Philury telled him you was down in the 
meadow, but she spilled a whole lot of 
doughnuts on the floor when he hollered in 
the doorway.” 

“ Randy, mother, Philury ! Ye must re- 
mind Prue of this often, so she won’t ferget,” 
said Mr. Weston. 

“ I do ’member, so how could I forget?” 
said Prue, as, with her hand on Randy’s, on 
the way upstairs she turned to assure her 
father that her memory was infallible. 


CHAPTER VII 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 

“ I think, Reuben, its ’baout time ye took 
a hand at ent’ tamin’,” said Mrs. Jenks one 
morning as they were gathering the sweet 
apples which a stiff breeze had ruthlessly 
stripped from the trees. They ha<J been 
scattered broadcast, and Reuben, endeavor- 
ing to gather a basketful of the finest, was 
not aware that his mother had spoken. 

“ Wal, what do ye say? ” she exclaimed, 
surprised at receiving no answer. 

“ What is that, mother? ” Reuben asked, 
as he placed his well-filled basket upon the 
grass and turned to toss a large, fair speci- 
men into the basket which she was filling. 

“ Oh, ye didn’t hear me? Wal, I said I 
thought ’twas ’baout time we did a little 
ent’tainin’. School’s ’baout ter begin, an’ 
’fore ye know it, Jotham ’ll be off ter Cam- 
116 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 117 
bridge, an’ I think ’twould be the right thing 
ter have a social gatherin’, say in the big 
barn here, with a spread in the haouse, an’ 
invite as many ’s the barn ’ll hold. Seems 
if everybody hereabaouts was depressed with 
the burnin’ of the mill, an’ while we’re all 
sorry fer Martin Meers, an’ sorry ter have 
no mill handy, I do’no’s everybody need feel 
b’liged ter wear a long face fer months. 
Josiah Boyden is a stumpin’ up an’ daown 
the roajj, a thumpin’ the graound with his 
cane, an’ tellin’ the gret damage ter him in 
partic’lar, an’ the taown in gin’ral; Tim- 
otheus Simpkins has tried ter write a pome 
abaout the fire, but had ter give it up. He 
started the first line, 6 This village didn’t 
possess no steam fire engine,’ an he ran up 
agin a stump, ’cause nothin’ would rhyme 
with that, so he’s all cast daown an’ dis- 
couraged. His father says it seems ’s if the 
poet’s laurel wreath was a loppin’. Sort er 
wiltin’ raound the ears, I s’pose he means,” 
concluded Mrs. Jenks. “ So ’s I was sayin’, 
let’s invite the folks ter jine us in a giniwine 


118 


RANDY AND PRUP 


good time, an’ p’raps they’ll continoo ter 
feel better fer it.” 

“ Give us yer hand, mother,” said Reuben, 
“ ye’re always doin’ something ter make 
folks happy. That’s a fine idea ter call our 
friends together, an’ have a jollification 
meetin’ in the barn. 

“ How’d ye like Randy Weston ter help 
ye? She’s always willin’ ter take a hand, an’ 
p’raps, seein’ ’s she spent the winter in Bos- 
ton, she may be able to give us some points. 
Not that city folks have their parties in 
barns,” he continued, “ but she’s so bright 
I didn’t know but she’d be of use to ye. I’ll 
run over an’ ask her if ye say so.” 

Mrs. Jenks turned and looked sharply at 
Reuben. 

“ How bright yer face looks, my boy,” she 
said ; “ it’s wuth a deal of effort ter see ye 
look so cheery.” 

“Ye used ter be distant-like with me, 
mother, ’til that summer that Miss Helen 
Dayton came here,” Reuben answered. 
“ Ever since then we have been chums, you 


REUBEN JENK8 ENTERTAINS 119 
an’ I, mother, an’ chums we’ll continue,” 
and, stooping, he touched her hand with his 
lips. 

“ Ye’re a reg’lar boy, through an’ 
through,” said Mrs. Jenks, “ but ye have 
some gentle ways at times that make ye as 
great a comfort as a daughter could be,” and 
while a smile quivered upon her lips, a tear 
lay upon her lashes. 

Born with a stern nature which time and 
toil had strengthened, she often found it 
difficult to express the love and tenderness 
which she felt for her son, but when by some 
little act he showed the warmth of his re- 
gard for her, she was more deeply touched 
than a shallower nature could have been. 

It was decided that the party should in- 
clude young and old, and Sandy McLeod re- 
marked, “ ’Twill be a gatherin’ the clans.” 

When appealed to, Randy gladly agreed 
to be as useful as possible; Philury Flanders 
declared that she should offer, since she was 
included in the Westons’ invitation, to help 


BANDY AND PRUE 


120 

about the spread on the evening of the party, 
and Prue promptly invited Johnny Buff urn 
to be her cavalier for the evening. 

“ You needn’t, if you don’t want to,” she 
coolly remarked, “ ’cause Hi Babson’s here 
visitin’, and he’ll do just as well.” 

Johnny was not pleased to think that Hi 
would be nearly as acceptable, therefore he 
answered shortly: 

“ No, Hi Babson won’t do as well’s me, 
Prue Weston, so I’ll be yer comp’ny at the 
big party myself.” 

Johnny was a valiant knight, prepared to 
stand his ground, and keep his wee lady 
from receiving attention from persistent 
little Hi, whose pranks had sometimes 
caused much annoyance to himself and his 
sister Hitty. Johnny had no idea of helping 
to make a charming evening for Hi. 

The Babson girls were delighted at the 
prospect of an evening’s gayety; the Lang- 
ham twins, Molly and Polly, were slightly 
excited. They were never more than mildly 
exhilarated. 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 121 

Immediately upon receipt of an invita- 
tion, Mrs. Hodgkins hurried forth to tell of 
the party, and to talk of anticipated pleas- 
ure with all whom she met. 

Up and down the village streets, across 
the square and over the dusty mill-road, 
across lots to the Simpkins farm, down a 
lane and around the corner to Parson 
Spooner’s, a little further up the road to 
Mrs. Small’s, and then back to the Centre 
to Barnes’ store, up a steep flight of stairs 
to the room over the store where Janie Clif- 
ton sat sewing. Having asked if the gown 
upon which she was working was being 
made to be worn at the party, Mrs. Hodgkins 
took a hasty leave, and hurried away to in- 
terview Mrs. Gray, there, if possible, to 
learn if the same teacher, Miss Gilman, 
would have charge of the school, if she 
would again board at the Gray farm, and 
also if she could possibly arrive in time for 
“ the Jenks’ party.” 

Up the hill once more to Mrs. Brimble- 
com’s, and across the field to Almira Weeks’, 


122 RANDY AND PRUE 

until old Dr. Bushnell declared, “ at the 
rate she’s a trottin’ naow, ef the party 
should be postponed for a day er two, Mis’ 
Hodgkins would never be able ter ’scape 
narvous prostration.” 

But the party was not postponed, and a 
brighter, lovelier evening never was seen 
than the one which Mrs. Jenks had named 
in her invitations, which Randy had very 
daintily written for her. 

The full moon made the roads as light as 
day, and the long, dark shadows of the trees 
swayed in the breeze, making fantastic 
forms upon the ground, interspersed with 
broad bands of silver moonlight. 

The rattle of approaching vehicles, and 
the sound of light laughter and merry chat- 
ter, told of the arrival of guests, whose 
honesty and lack of affectation made them 
eager to arrive early, and willing to have it 
known that they anticipated the pleasure 
offered them. 

The wide-open door revealed the interior 
of the barn, its walls hung with green 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 123 
branches and clusters of wild flowers, and 
lighted by scores of bright-hued lanterns, 
which glowed in a manner quite bewilder- 
ing to many of the guests, who had never 
seen such showy decorations. 

“ Here’s Randy Weston ! Here’s Randy 
and Prue ! ” shouted a chorus of eager voices, 
and Randy, holding little Prue’s hand, ran 
in, radiant, and laughing gayly, while Prue 
exclaimed : 

“ Yes, here we are! Randy’s here, ’cause 
I bringed her, an’ Philury’s here, ’cause she 
corned herself.” 

Mr. and Mrs. Jenks welcomed the Squire 
and Mrs. Weston, and turned to greet Sandy 
McLeod and his dear old wife. 

“ ’Twouldn’t be more ’n a halfway party 
without you ’n Mrs. McLeod,” said Reuben, 
to which Margaret McLeod, laying her hand 
upon his shoulder, replied : 

“ It’s a rare welcome, lad, an’ I ken we’ll 
try weel tae merit it.” 

“ Ay, that we will, Margaret,” said Sandy. 
“ Weel, but it wad warm the heart o’ a stun 


124 RANDY AND PRUE 

tae see the sunny faces aboot the barn. 

Look, Margaret! wee Prue is speakin’ tae 

ye.” 

“Why, bless the bairn! An’ were ye a 
sprite that I didna see ye? ” said Mrs. Mc- 
Leod, taking Prue’s little hand in her own. 

“ I just wanted to ask you to look at my 
new shiny shoes, and to tell you that Mr. 
Sandy says I’ve growed a big inch,” said 
Prue. 

“ ’Twas a braw lass, indeed,” said Mrs. 
McLeod, “ a-growin’ like a rare flower, an’ 
as tae the shoon, nae wonder they please ye. 
I ne’er saw finer.” 

The old lady watched her as she skipped 
away to join the other children. 

“ Her heart’s light as air,” she murmured ; 
“ may it e’er be filled wi’ sunshine, for the 
joy she brought tae me,” and with her eyes 
filled with the light of love, she turned to 
look at her dear old Sandy, where a ring of 
laughing boys and girls danced about him, 
loudly clamoring for a story. 

In one corner under an enormous red lan- 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 125 
tern stood Josiah Boyden, enlightening the 
group of men before him as to his position 
in the town, and his importance generally. 
He considered himself mentally and socially 
above his listeners, and to enforce this fact 
he had mounted a small keg, upon which he 
had been sitting, and, with what he consid- 
ered appropriate gestures, proceeded forci- 
bly to state his position. 

Some, open-mouthed and impressed, lis- 
tened attentively to the speaker; others 
grinned derisively and nudged their neigh- 
bors. Old Nate Burnham drew nearer to 
the group around Boyden, and, with hands 
clasped behind his back, seemed to be an 
absorbed listener. 

“ Naow, I’m by all odds the most impor- 
tant man in the taown, bein’ eddicated an’ 
possessed er means, an’ when it comes ter 
talkin’ er village improvements, my opinion 
should be axed fust; then ’twould be time 
’nough ter see what other folks thinks.” 

“ H — m! ” remarked Nate loudly. 

Boyden looked that way, and the red lan- 


126 BANDY AND TRUE 

tern bobbed and swayed above his head. 

Hearing no further remark, he continued : 

“ There’s some talk er fixin’ up the church 
at consid’able expense, an’ whitewashin’ the 
ceilin’s of the parsonage — all on ’em ’strav- 
agant idees. Then some on ’em wants a 
stun waterin’ trough in the square ; a 
wooden one’s good ’nough, I say. Ter speak 
truthfully, I’m ’nough sight the biggest toad 
in the puddle, an’ my ’pinion’s val’able. I 
say stun’s too expensive, an’ wood’s good 

’nough; wood ’ll hold aout ’til ” 

Crash! The top of the keg had played 
the speaker false, in that it failed to “ hold 
aout ” until he had finished his speech. 

“ That’s the time wood didn’t stan’ by ye, 
Josiah,” squeaked Nate Burnham. “ I guess 
a stun keg would er held ye better, bein’s 
yer somewhat solid.” 

“Keep still, can’t ye?” roared Boyden. 
“ Didn’t ye never see a feller slip afore? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” assented Burnham, “ lots on 
’em, but ’tain’t often we see such a elevated 
pusson as you be a-takin’ a notion ter flop.” 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 127 

Josiah Bojden was well aware that others 
besides Nate Burnham were amused. A nail 
on the edge of the keg had torn his trousers, 
and, at the same time, scratched his ankle, 
but the tiny nail thrust was as nothing com- 
pared with the wound which his vanity had 
received. 

“ Why,” he questioned, “ had his friends 
considered his ignominious descent from the 
keg mirth-provoking? Was it ludicrous 
that a prominent citizen should suffer a mis- 
hap? ” He arose stiffly and hobbled toward 
the door. His slight scratch would have per- 
mitted him to walk without limping, but he 
preferred to consider himself injured, and to 
pose as one abused, therefore he refused to 
listen to Mrs. Jenks as she urged him to 
stay, and he stumped out into the darkness, 
banging the door behind him. 

The gayety did not abate with his depar- 
ture; rather it seemed to gain added zest, 
and the evening breeze, sweeping through 
the open windows, swayed the bright-colored 
lanterns, and stirred little gusts of perfume 


128 BANDY AND PRUE 

from the sweet wild flowers which graced 
the walls. Jack Marvin, as usual, an escort 
for the Langham twins, stood between the 
two girls, smiling impartially upon each. 
They had been his neighbors for a year, dur- 
ing which time he had been quite unable to 
decide which he preferred. His cousin Dot, 
or Dorothea, as she chose to be called, de- 
clared that Jack had grown thin trying to 
determine which one was the more charm- 
ing, Molly or Polly. 

Jack usually retaliated by asking Dot the 
cause of her thinness, a question which usu- 
ally silenced her. She was extremely sensi- 
tive because of her exceedingly stout figure. 

Kandy and Jotham had been promenad- 
ing, Jotham praising the decorations which 
Kandy had designed. In the shelter of some 
branches of heavy foliage they sat down 
upon a long wooden bench, and Jotham 
turned to look at the girl beside him. Quite 
unaware of his scrutiny, Kandy watched the 
merry party, and, like a vision, she seemed 
to see the drawing-room at Helen Dayton’s 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 129 
home in Boston. Again she was helping re- 
ceive, once more she saw the lights and heard 
the music, and Jotham, in evening dress, 
making his way toward her. 

Randy turned quickly as Jotham said: 

“ Of what were you thinking, Randy? 
Were you, like myself, dreaming of the win- 
ter spent in Boston? ” 

“ Oh, Jotham,” she whispered, “ for the 
moment I was at the party which Miss Day- 
ton gave for me.” 

“ Just where I was,” said Jotham. “ I was 
thinking of a sweet girl dressed all in white, 
with a single rose in her hair.” 

Randy looked down at her gown. 

“ Oh, it doesn’t matter about the dress,” 
he said, “ you are Randy, our Randy, 
whether the frock be pink like this one, or 
white like the one you wore at the party.” 

A noisy little troop paused in front of 
them, but Randy and Jotham, partly 
Shadowed by green branches, were unob- 
served by the children. 

“Now, Johnny Buffum, you just walk 


130 RANDY AND PRUE 

with me a little while,” said his small sister 
Hitty. “ You’ve walked with Prue a long 
time now.” 

“ Jotham walks raound with Randy, an’ 
Pm goin’ ter walk with Prue,” answered 
Johnny stoutly. 

“ Well, I’m your sister,” said Hitty. 

“ Randy ain’t Jotham’s sister,” remarked 
Johnny. 

“ But he just walks with Randy ’cause he 
ain’t got any sister,” argued Hitty. 

Randy blushed as Jotham said : 

“ Now you know why you are honored 
with my company.” 

“ You just walk raound with Hitty,” said 
Hi Babson ; “ I’m a- walkin’ side er Prue my- 
self,” and he marched away, triumphant. 

Randy and Jotham laughed heartily as 
Prue trudged along with Hi, disconsolate 
little Johnny lagging behind with his sister 
Hitty. 

“ ‘ None but the brave deserve the fair,’ ” 
said Jotham. 

Belinda and Jemima Babson were chat- 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 131 
ting with Reuben Jenks, and Phoebe Small 
was much elated, having the rare delight of 
enjoying the society of Mr. Jack Blentmore, 
the artist, whom Mrs. Jenks had especially 
invited. He seemed to be enjoying the even- 
ing, and Phoebe, looking up at his handsome 
dark face, wondered if his apparent pleas- 
ure were genuine. 

“ This must seem so different from the 
parties which you usually attend in the 
city? ” she ventured shyly, the sentence end- 
ing with a rising inflection which implied a 
question. 

“ That is just why I am enjoying it,” he 
answered kindly ; “ it is different, just as you 
are unlike the average city girl. It is nov- 
elty which charms,” and Phoebe was enrap- 
tured. 

Mrs. J enks and Mrs. Potts were standing 
near the doorway engaged in conversation, 
when Jotham joined them. 

" Have you noticed the decorations, 
mother? ” he asked ; “ Randy designed them, 
and I think the effect is charming.” 


132 


RANDY AND PRUE 


“ We were just speaking of her,” said Mrs. 
Potts. “ Mrs. Jenks said she could never 
have made the old barn look so fine without 
Randy’s help.” 

“She’s a lovely girl,” said Mrs. Jenks; 
“ but, Jotham,” she continued, “ I thought I 
see her a minute ago a-walkin’ ’baout with 
ye.” 

“ Randy was with me,” said Jotham, “ but 
she saw Grandma Small sitting alone, and 
looking a bit lonesome, and she ran away 
to talk with her. 6 You can easily find 
someone to talk to and she can’t,’ she 
said.” 

“ Naow, ain’t that just like Randy? ” said 
Mrs. Jenks. “ She’s a reg’lar sunbeam, that 
girl is,” and in his heart Jotham repeated, 
“ A regular sunbeam.” 

Grandma Small was delighted when she 
saw Randy’s smiling face and heard her 
cheery greeting, and she agreed with Randy 
that the party was a success, quite forget- 
ting that a moment before she had been feel- 
ing very lonely, and wondering why she had 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 133 
been induced to come. Seeing Randy chat- 
ting with Grandma Small, Phoebe suddenly 
realized that she was guilty of neglect, and 
with Jack Blentmore made her way to where 
the two were sitting. The young artist was 
every inch a gentleman, and he soon was 
talking to the old lady, listening deferen- 
tially when she spoke, and answering her 
quaint questions so seriously, that Phoebe 
never dreamed that he was amused. 

“ Did ye say that city folks often pay good 
money fer picturs, jest picturs? ” she asked. 

“ Oh, yes,” Jack replied, “ they seem to 
think they need them.” 

“ Massy sakes!” the old woman ejacu- 
lated, lifting her hands in surprise. “ Naow, 
take that pictur ye’re paintin’ of our 
Phoebe,” she continued, “ haow much ought 
that ter bring — that is, if someone felt able 
an’ willin’ ter buy it? ” 

“Oh, grandma! sh — h,” said Phoebe, but 
grandma was determined to receive an an- 
swer to her question, and she paid no heed 
to Phoebe’s warning whisper. 


134 


RANDY AND PRUE 


Jack Blentmore laughed pleasantly. 

“ That depends upon two things, Mrs. 
Small,” he said ; “ how much the party who 
wishes to possess the picture is willing or 
able to pay.” 

“ But what would be jest a fair price fer 
it? ” persisted his questioner. 

“ Well, I hope, if I am lucky, to part with 
it for five hundred ; I should like more, but 
I’d accept that sum if it were offered me.” 

Grandma Small’s mouth opened wide, and 
her eyes were fixed upon Jack Blentmore 
with an expression of utter bewilderment. 
She tried to speak, but the magnificence of 
the sum, as it seemed to her, had caused her 
to wonder if the young man could be joking. 
Again she essayed to speak, and this time 
her words were barely audible. 

“ Five hundred dollars ! ” she gasped. 

“ Why, yes, that is the price which I have 
fixed upon, although perhaps I shall do bet- 
ter,” he replied. His face did not betray the 
amusement which he felt. 

“Wal, the idea! Who’d ever think it?” 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 135 
said the old lady. “ Not but what it’s a 
pooty pictur, an’ jest like aour Phoebe, but 
what ’stonished me was the idee that any- 
body ’d pay half the price of the mortgage on 
our church for a single pictur. Wall wal! 
but city folks is queer ! I guess, though, I’ll 
say I like ye, young man, an’ I wish ye luck, 
an’ ef anybody’s goin’ ter pay such a fort’n’ 
fer a pictur, I hope he’ll buy yourn.” 

Jack Blentmore grasped the toil-worn 
hand which she extended, and there was a 
suspicion of moisture in his eyes as he said 
frankly : 

“ I thank you for your kind wishes ; they 
ought to bring me luck.” He smiled, and 
Grandma Small looked up at him with ap^ 
proving eyes. He could not at that mo- 
ment have analyzed his emotions; they 
formed a combination of genuine admira- 
tion for the kind old face, and a gentle pity 
for one whose life had, perforce, been spent 
in a locality where petty economies and 
frugal planning were the price of existence. 

In the center of the floor the children had 


136 


BANDY AND PRUE 


joined hands, and Hi Babson, handkerchief 
in hand, was running wildly around the 
ring thus formed, intent upon dropping his 
bit of linen behind Prue, but Prue watched 
him too closely, and he was obliged to favor 
another little damsel. Groups of laughing 
girls and their gallant escorts chattered like 
flocks of sparrows, and their elders, quite as 
gayly, talked and laughed until the tuning 
of old Nate Burnham’s “ fiddle ” caused 
them to pause and turn that way. 

“ Choose yer partners ! Clear the floor ! 
Mis’ Jenks an’ her good man be a-goin’ ter 
lead the Country Dance,” shouted Nate, 
from his perch upon a barrel, and no one 
waited for a second invitation. The strains 
of “ Fisher’s Hornpipe ” were too enticing 
to be resisted, and Randy and Jotham, 
Reuben and Belinda, Jack Marvin (oh, to 
think of it!) obliged to dance with one of 
the Langham twins, Dot Marvin with 
Phoebe Small’s cousin Jim, Phoebe with 
Jack Blentmore, who considered it an ex- 
perience to relate to his dearest chum when 


REUBEN JENES ENTERTAINS 187 
once more in Boston ; the Squire and Mrs, 
Weston, and, yes, pretty Miss Gilman, the 
teacher, with Parson Spooner’s nephew ; 
Joel Simpkins and Janie Clifton, and many 
more tripped through the dance with light 
hearts and lighter feet, and Nate zealously 
plied his bow, and alternately chuckled and 
shouted his calls. 

In a corner the children emulated their 
elders, and skipped about to the lively 
music, keeping excellent time, although the 
figures which they executed were original, 
in fact, quite unlike any which had ever 
been danced before. 

Nate Burnham knew naught of modern 
dancing music, but “ Yankee Doodle,” 
“ Fisher’s Hornpipe,” “ Money Musk,” and 
“ Devil’s Dream ” he had played for years, 
and, he considered himself an accomplished 
musician. 

Faster and faster the music led them; 
dance followed dance in rapid succession, 
and sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks 
proved the exhilaration of rhythmic motion. 


138 BANDY AND PRUE 

At length Nate slionted a welcome an- 
nouncement : 

“Mis’ Jenks says we’ll ’journ ter the 
haouse fer a spread.” 

Eagerly they had grasped the opportunity 
to dance, and with even more enthusiasm 
they sped toward the house to taste the good 
things which they knew would grace the 
table, for Mrs. Jenks was noted far and wide 
as being a fine cook. 

The hostess stood at the head of the table, 
with Philury Flanders at her right, to assist 
in serving. Randy insisted upon helping 
Philury, and in so doing she found a place 
for a little girl who was in danger of being 
pushed about by the small but energetic 
boys; cajoled Johnny Buffum into giving 
his chair to old Mrs. Brimblecom by promis- 
ing to keep his place beside Prue for him 
until he should return and claim it; she pro- 
cured a cup of tea for Dr. Bushnell, whom 
Philury had quite innocently overlooked, 
and indeed, as J otham remarked : 

“As usual, Randy, you’ve made every- 


REUBEN JENKS ENTERTAINS 139 
body happy. Now come with me, and I will 
take pleasure in serving you ; ” and as she 
looked at the smiling faces around the table, 
Randy was truly happy, because, of all the 
party, not one had been neglected. 

The tempting food disappeared as if by 
magic, and Philury made many trips w T ith 
her tray heavily laden with more good 
things until at last she exclaimed, with a 
merry laugh : 

“ IPs lucky ye danced Tore supper, fer 
there won’t be many of ye that ’ll feel like 
hoppin’ ’raound after this treat.” 

“ That’s so, Philury ; I’ll take a piece er 
pie,” remarked Jabez Brimblecom, as usual 
mingling demands for food with his conver- 
sation. When at last the jolly party took 
leave of the hostess, their frank expressions 
of delight and appreciation of the evening’s 
pleasure amply rewarded Mrs. Jenks for the 
toil of preparation, and as she turned from 
the doorway, after the last guest had de- 
parted, she exclaimed : 

“ Wal ? father! Reuben! What do ye 


140 BANDY AND PRUE 

say? It seems ter me I’m well repaid. 

They just enjoyed themselves, an’ so did 

we.” 

“ Mother, ye’re a first-rate ent’tainer,” 
said Reuben, laying his arm lovingly about 
her shoulders. 

Reuben Jenks, the elder, took her hand in 
his as he said, “ An’ a household an’ neigh- 
borhood blessin’.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 

When Josiah Boyden had spoken so 
vehemently against the placing of a stone 
trough in the square, declaring it to be an 
unwarranted extravagance which the “ se- 
lectmen ” should denounce, he did not 
dream that generous, kind-hearted old 
Sandy McLeod had offered to present it as 
a gift from himself and his Margaret. 

Boyden did not object to a better trough, 
but he felt it to be his duty to frown upon 
any village improvements which might in- 
crease his tax-bill, and fearing that one lux- 
ury added would make room for another, he 
had decided to promptly combat any sugges- 
tions relating to the disbursement of the 
town’s money. 

Sandy and Margaret had talked the mat- 
ter over, and one sunny day they drove to a 
141 


142 BANDY AND PRUE 

distant town and gave tlieir order for the 

trough. 

When Josiah Boyden learned how mis- 
taken he had been, he understood why, dur- 
ing his speech at the Jenks’ party, some of 
his listeners had smiled so broadly. 

“ Wal ! ” he remarked dubiously, “ I 
s’pose it’s generous on ’em ef they want ter 
do it, but I shouldn’t wonder ef it sort er 
’ncouraged a notion ter think nothin’ good 
’nough, ’n want everything ’baout taown 
changed.” 

“ An’ ef some er the folks raound ’baout 
here gits an idee that a few things needs 
changin’, an’ hustles ter help the thing along 
’stead er kickin’ agin improvements, we’ll 
git a pooty good-lookin’ village ’fore ye know 
it,” remarked Nate Burnham, as he knocked 
the ashes from his pipe and appeared to be 
addressing space. 

“ Ye hain’t got no prop’ty ter be taxed,” 
said Boyden ; “ so ye don’t keer haow high 
taxes be.” 

“ ’F I had prop’ty ter pay taxes on, I’ll be 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 143 
baound I’d know ’nougk ter want ter own it 
in a decent village. I’d think ’twould be 
more val’able, so ter speak, ef ’twas sitiwated 
in a prosp’r’us-lookin’ taown,” replied Nate. 

Sandy McLeod’s generosity was not unap- 
preciated, however. The news that the old 
moss-grown, water-logged, wooden drinking- 
trough was to be replaced by a fine one of 
stone, and that it was to be the gift of the 
dear old couple whom everyone loved, was 
announced one morning at Barnes’ store, 
and like ants running from an anthill, the 
assembled newsmongers hastened forth to 
tell what they had heard. 

At a bend of the mill-road an old gnarled 
apple tree leaned over the wall, as if extend- 
ing a greeting to all who passed. Its tiny 
dwarfed fruit showing between the leaves 
blushed faintly where the loving sun had 
kissed it, and Sandy McLeod, leading a 
chestnut mare by the halter, paused, gazing 
upward, shielding his eyes with his hand. 

“ A braw bit o’ fruit, Heather,” he re- 
marked to the horse, “ an’ like some folk 


144 BANDY AND PRUE 

wha’ I’ll ne’er mention. The tree makes a 
show o’ muckle fruit, but oh ! the taste o’ it 
wad make ye daft wi’ its puckerin’. But 
there’s plenty o’ gude folks, ef we look for 
’em, Heather, an’ frae the ithers we’ll turn 
our een. 

“ Ah, here’s the dominie ; we’re in luck tae 
meet ane o’ the best, after wha’ I hae been 
sayin’, Heather.” 

After greetings had been exchanged, and 
genial Parson Spooner had inspected and 
praised Heather’s good points, he said, turn- 
ing to Sandy : 

“ I have it in my heart to thank you for 
your generous gift to our little village. 
Everyone seems delighted that we are to 
have so useful an ornament at the Centre, 
and even the beasts will relish a draught of 
cool water from the new stone trough. I 
wish, upon my word, they knew enough to 
thank you.” 

“ Weel, perhaps the patient creatures 
weel thank me, in their ain way, wi’ a neigh 
here, an’ a whinny there,” responded Sandy, 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 145 


“ but noo there’s anither thing I’ve kenned 
o’er mony times. The day the gift arrives, 
an’ the mon hae set it in place, I’d like a wee 
bit program, beginning wi’ a blessin’, ye’ll 
be gude enough tae ask, an’ I’ll whisper in 
yer ear wha’ I hae planned shall follow 
yer gude words. I whisper, fer the 
verra trees seem tae hae ears in this little 
toon.” 

“ Well, well !” exclaimed Parson Spooner, 
“ that’s a fine idea, to be sure, and it’s cer- 
tain to please everyone. Yes, yes, I’ll keep 
the secret until the day of presentation.” 

“ And wad it be weel tae tell the gude 
folk frae the pulpit wha’ day we’ll hae the 
celebration?” Sandy asked cautiously. 

“ Why, certainly, I’ll announce it this 
next Sunday,” said the parson, “ and as I 
am to preach on temperance, I think it will 
be quite fitting, after the sermon, to an- 
nounce the presentation of the watering 
trough. 

“Well, what is it, my little man?” he 
asked, as a little sunburned fellow, in a 


146 RANDY AND PRUE 

checked pinafore and immense straw hat, 
addressed him. 

The youngest of the numerous Buffum 
family shifted from one bare foot to the 
other ; put one finger in his mouth and took 
it out, only to replace it with another; 
peeped from under his hat brim at the par- 
son, and promptly looked down upon the 
ground again. The good man’s smile was 
reassuring, but Tommy’s shyness was over- 
powering, and the words would not come. 

“ Well, Tommy, what is it? ” questioned 
the parson, “ or have you forgotten what 
you intended to ask?” 

Tommy summoned all his courage. “ My 
sister Hitty jest said Parson Spooner knew 
everything there was to know, an’ I 
said ” 

Evidently Tommy’s bravery was oozing. 

“ Well, what did you say?” the parson 
asked, with a deal of effort stifling a laugh. 

Tommy looked up at the kindly face, and 
judged that he might safely proceed. 

“ I said, I guessed there might be some 



41 Well, Tommy, what is it ? ” questioned the parson Page 146 


















* 

' 












AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 147 


teenty thing what you hadn’t learned, an’ 
she said I darsen’t ask you ! ” 

Tommy drew a long breath. The words 
were out, and the good man’s hand had not 
descended in wrath upon him. Sandy and 
the clergyman joined in a hearty laugh, and 
Tommy stared in utter bewilderment that 
his speech should have been received in such 
an hilarious manner. 

Checking his merriment, Parson Spooner 
said : 

“ You may tell your sister Hitty that 
there are many, many things which I have 
not, yet learned, and never expect to.” 

Tommy waited no longer, but darted off, 
shouting gleefully. 

“ Hooray! hooray! Hitty, I was right. 
The parson says they’s a lot er things what 
he don’t know. I guessed right, ’cause I was 
a boy.” To which the discomfited Hitty, 
from her hiding-place behind the wall, re- 
marked : 

“ Wal, ye needn’t holler so, anyway. 1 
wouldn’t have asked him.” 


148 


RANDY AND TRUE 


Tommy considered this remark unkind, 
in view of the fact that Hitty had dared him 
to ask the question, but he refrained from 
taunting her, contenting himself with think- 
ing that, as usual, he knew “ more ’n Hitty 
did.” 

On the following Sunday the parson, as 
he had promised, announced from the pulpit 
the date which Sandy McLeod had chosen 
for the presentation. 

“ We wish to have as large a number as 
possible present,” he said. “ The exercises 
will be very interesting, and I will ask one 
and all to tell any friends who chance to be 
absent from church to-day the date and 
hour as I have given it, and urge them to as- 
semble in the square at that time.” 

With such a will did they do the parson’s 
bidding, that when the afternoon arrived 
the little square had as large a crowd as it 
could well hold, many of whom had driven 
in from other towns, “ ter see the gret 
doin’s,” as they expressed it. Some stood 
about in little groups; others sat upon the 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 149 


steps of Barnes’ store, or leaned against the 
fence in the shadow of the willow tree, and 
all were talking of Sandy McLeod’s gener- 
osity. 

“ I move we try ter git him ter take a farm 
over in aour town,” said an old farmer, with 
a chuckle, “ he’s that generous, he’s baound 
ter do fer whatever place he lives in.” 

“ Ye’d find his neighbors wouldn’t let him 
go,” was the laughing response ; “ they know 
’nough ter prize him here.” 

Some of the small boys perched in the 
branches of the trees about the square, thus 
gaining an unobstructed view. 

“ What they goin’ ter do?” asked little 
Johnny Buffurn of Hi Babson, who sat be- 
side him upon a sturdy branch. 

“ I do’no’,” Hi answered, “ but whatever 
’tis, we’re baound ter see it from up here 
where we be. Look ! look ! ” he shouted a 
moment later. “ There’s a brass band like 
what we seen with the circus percession! 
Where’d they come from? What does it 
say on the drum? ” 


150 


BANDY AND PRUE 


The band, a typical country band, was 
composed of as varied types as could pos- 
sibly have been gotten together. Short and 
tall, fat and slender, all clad in an attempt 
at a uniform, yet each with a coat different 
from that worn by his neighbor, they pre- 
sented a motley appearance, but in the eyes 
of the assembled crowd they were imposing, 
and Hi barely escaped a fall from the tree 
as he leaned recklessly forward in an at- 
tempt to learn the name of the town whence 
the musicians had come. 

The huge red-faced man who, with the aid 
of a small boy, carried the bass drum, turned 
sharply about, thus hiding the name of the 
town, which was painted in gorgeous letter- 
ing upon the drum-head, and Hi Babson and 
Johnny Buffum were obliged to be content 
with considering the home of the band a 
mystery, and Hi confided to Johnny that 
when he grew up he should play the bass 
drum. Hi watched the men with the great- 
est curiosity, and Johnny found them no 
less interesting. 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 151 

“ See that tall feller a-peekin’ inter his 
brass horn,” said Hi, giving Johnny a vig- 
orous nudge. “ What do ye s’pose he’s 
a-lookin’ fer? ” 

“ Oh, look at him naow!” said Johnny; 
“ he’s a-tippin’ it upside daown, a-tryin’ ter 
empty suthin’ aout. What could be in 
it?” 

“ I do’no’,” Hi answered, his black eyes 
twinkling, “ but if I’d er had the chance, 
there’d been beans in it, I tell ye.” 

And now the tall figure of Parson Spooner 
appeared, and. hat in hand, he mounted the 
tiny platform which had been erected. With 
much tenderness he spoke to the assemblage 
of the duty which each owed the town in 
which he lived, reminding them that while 
it was possible for but few to make fine gifts, 
all were able to lead blameless lives, thus 
setting a fine example to the little ones about 
them ; to do gentle deeds of kindness, to keep 
their children in school as long as possible, 
thus insuring citizens who were not ig- 
norant, and then he lifted his face toward 


152 


BANDY AND PRTJE 


Heaven, a sweet smile parting his lips as he 
asked a blessing. Not a head remained cov- 
ered, and even incorrigible Hi Babson was 
impressed. 

“ He looks some like a angel what’s in a 
pictur in a book what ma’s got,” he whis- 
pered to Johnny, and indeed the boy was not 
far from right. The good man’s face was 
radiant, and his white hair, touched by the 
sunlight, seemed a halo about his head. A 
hush followed his words — then a murmur of 
voices as each asked his neighbor what he 
“ s’posed would come next.” Again Parson 
Spooner’s voice was heard. 

“ Dear friends, I think we are ready for 
the music,” he said, motioning to the band 
to come forward. And how they played! 
The man with the drum grew redder, as he 
seemed to be making heroic efforts to burst 
the drum-head, and Hi grasped Johnny’s 
arm as he whispered excitedly : 

“ Look at the man with the big brass 
horn ! His cheeks is ’most bustin’, an’ the 
feller a- tootin’ on that long thing — jest see 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 163 


his eyes a-stickin’ aout! I tell ye, I will 
play in a band when Pm a man.” 

Johnny’s answer betrayed his strongest 
trait. 

“ Looks ’s though it might be pooty hard 
work,” he drawled. 

Uproarious applause followed the music, 
and the delighted musicians smiled broadly, 
so charmed were they with the compliment. 
Again a hush prevailed, and just as every- 
body was wondering what to expect, Parson 
Spooner appeared, making his way through 
the crowd. He was leading someone by 
the hand, someone very sweet and 
winsome, who, clad in white, and blush- 
ing softly, took her place upon the plat- 
form. 

“ Oh, it’s Randy, Randy Weston,” cried 
Hi Babson, from his perch in the tree, and 
many a voice echoed softly : 

“ Randy, Randy Weston.” 

Jotham, his dark face flushed and eager, 
placed a large bunch of white roses in 
her hand. She smiled as she took them, and 


154 BANDY AND PRUE 

turning, looked upon the sea of upturned 

faces. 

The Squire and his wife, with little Prue, 
looked eagerly toward the slender, graceful 
figure. They wondered if she could, with- 
out faltering, perforin her task. Prue w r as 
not nervous. “ Could not Kandy do any- 
thing?” she thought. 

The parson lifted his hand for silence, 
then he said : 

“ Dear friends: We thought it fitting 
that a young girl should present this gift, 
and the generous donor, Mr. McLeod, has 
chosen Miss Randy Weston, with whom you 
are all well acquainted.” 

“ Three cheers for Randy ! ” shouted 
Reuben Jenks, and three times three they 
gave, Johnny Buffum coming in with a pro- 
longed “ Hooray ! ” after all the other voices 
were silent. 

Randy stepped forward, and gazed a mo- 
ment upon the smiling faces before her, 
then she said : 

“ I shall not attempt to make a fine 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 155 
speech, I am very sure that I could not if 
I tried, but I can give Mr. McLeod’s mes- 
sage, which is a welcome to all, whether of 
our own townspeople, or friends or stran- 
gers who visit our little square, to use his 
gift as freely as if they themselves had pur- 
chased it, and thus show their appreciation. 
He is kind to all whom he meets, and 
thoughtful for the welfare of the beasts in 
his care. He asks that his gift shall ever 
remind you that your dumb servants often 
suffer with thirst.” 

Drawing a few of the snowy blossoms 
from the cluster, Randy lifted them high in 
air, letting them drop into the cool water 
of the trough. 

“ I have strewn it with flowers,” she said. 
“ May its water ever be as pure and unsul- 
lied as the white blossoms which now float 
upon its surface. Now it has become the 
property of our dear little village.” She 
smiled, but tears filled her sweet eyes as the 
crowd cheered her to the echo. 

Jotham and Reuben escorted her gal- 


156 RANDY AND PRUE 

lantly to where the Squire and her mother 

awaited her. 

“ Vm proud of ye, Randy. That’s better 
than a written speech,” said her father, tak- 
ing her hand, while her mother kissed her 
tenderly, saying only : 

“ Oh, Randy dear.” 

Prue capped the climax. 

“ You was better than the whole band er 
music,” she said. 

The band played another selection, but 
the little group of friends around Randy 
cared only to talk with her, and when the 
music had ceased, another friend waited to 
congratulate her. It was Sandy McLeod, 
who grasped her hand firmly as he said : 

“ Ah, ye bonnie lassie, ye honored the gift 
an’ the day, an’ mysel’, an’ I thank ye fer 
doin’ weel the pretty task I set ye. Ye 
never fail us, lass. Ye always do weel wha’ 
we ask, an’ my Margaret here is waitin’ fer 
a word wi’ ye.” 

“ Ay, that I am, child, an’ like my Sandy 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 157 


I say ye honored us. Heaven bless ye, lass, 
and grant ye sweetest gifts.” 

“ Amen ! ” said Sandy, snatching off his 
Scotch bonnet and bowing gravely. 

Then a bevy of girls and boys surrounded 
Randy, and when, at last, they turned 
toward home, the laughing friends in their 
wagons and carriages formed a gay proces- 
sion, which escorted the Westons nearly to 
their door. 

It had been an exciting day for Randy, 
and although outwardly calm, her heart 
beat faster as she thought how generously, 
how lovingly all her friends had rallied 
about her to offer congratulations. Her 
graceful little speech had been a success, in 
that it had pleased all who had heard it. 
The loving commendation of our dear ones 
and our friends makes the crowning joy of 
our little triumphs. 

During the ride home Prue had nestled 
closely in the shelter of Randy’s arm, and 
she seemed to be thinking deeply, apparently 


158 BANDY AND PRUE 

upon something which she could not quite 

determine. 

Randy, caressing the white roses which 
lay in her lap, did not notice how unusually 
quiet and thoughtful Prue seemed to be. 
Just as they stopped at the door, the little 
girl turned impulsively toward Randy as she 
said : 

“ Why, why didn’t I ’member? I’ve been 
tryin’ to think, an’ now I know who ’tis you 
looked like when you talked to all those 
peoples, and held your roses up so high an’ 
let them drop in the water. You looked just 
like the Goddess er Liberty on the cover of 
my geography, only you didn’t have a big 
flag winded ’round you. I ’most wish you 
had, ’though you couldn’t looked nicer, 
could she? ” she asked eagerly. 

“ I don’t think our Randy could have been 
improved,” said Mr. Weston, and Prue was 
satisfied. 

When after the presentation Phoebe 
Small had joined the group around Randy, 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 159 


her words had been very kind, but while she 
had spoken pleasantly, her voice and man- 
ner had lacked enthusiasm, and her congrat- 
ulation had evidently cost her an effort. 

She was fond of Randy and, in a way, glad 
of her popularity, but she was a girl who 
had ever wished to be conspicuous, and, pos- 
sessed of a jealous disposition, she could not 
joyously greet the friend who had so re- 
cently been the center of attraction. 

Phoebe found some comfort, however, in 
the fact that an artist had chosen her as a 
model for a canvas which he intended to ex- 
hibit, and that she was the only girl in the 
village who had ever been thus honored. 

A few days later Jack Blentmore, having 
put the finishing touches upon the picture, 
announced that he must pack his belongings 
and return to the city, and Mrs. Small 
mildly hinted that she had several friends 
whom she would be greatly pleased to have 
see it. 

“ Why not ask them to come in some even- 
ing, and have a look at it?” Jack replied, 


160 


RANDY AND PRUE 


adding with a laugh, “ it will be a bit amus- 
ing to listen to their comments.” 

Curiosity was rife in the village regarding 
both painter and picture, and on the evening 
chosen by Mrs. Small her “ best room ” was 
filled with a throng which gazed upon the 
canvas with open-mouthed wonder, asked 
the most amazing questions, and as Phoebe 
afterward said “ would have driven me 
wild if Mr. Blentmore hadn’t taken it all 
as a good joke,” and indeed, so pleasantly 
did he answer their questions, that all went 
away declaring him to be a “ daownright 
good feller.” 

One old farmer pushed his hat back from 
his forehead, and standing very close to the 
picture, squinted his eyes and opened his 
mouth, as if expecting thus to aid his vision. 
Apparently the act was not helpful, as he 
reversed the maneuver, and closed his 
mouth and opened his eyes. Then taking 
Jack Blentmore by the hand, he made this 
comforting remark : 

“ Wal, young man, it looks ’nough better 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 161 


’n I thought ’twould when I seen ye aout in 
the field a-puttin’ on the daubs.” 

Joel Simpkins assumed a patronizing air 
which amused Jack, and aroused Phoebe’s 
wrath. Ambling toward the picture, with 
his hands in his pockets, he said : 

“ I reely think, Blentmore, that that looks 
pooty good, ’n I’d almost think ef ye’d keep 
on er tryin’ ye’d be able ter paint some pic- 
turs as is.” 

Having expressed his valuable opinion, he 
walked off to find Janie Clifton, and to tell 
her in a loud whisper that she was “ ’nougli 
sight prettier ’n the gal in the pictur,” to 
which Janie replied with a delighted giggle. 

The Babson girls expressed the greatest 
admiration, and Mollie Wilson told Mrs. 
Small, shyly, that she had never seen any- 
thing so lovely. Molly longed to tell the 
artist of her admiration for his work, but 
she dared not address him, and she hoped 
that Phoebe’s mother would repeat her 
words. 

One meek little woman walked with a 


162 


RANDY AND PRUE 


timid, sidelong gait toward the canvas, and 
after having looked carefully at every inch 
of landscape, and at every detail of the 
figure, she remarked softly: 

“ H’m ! That ear looks real nat’ral.” 

Jack groaned. Of all the picture, not a 
word for fine drawing, color, or likeness! 
Only the ear interested her ! “ If that is all 

she could see, I make bold to remark, Poor 
woman ! ” he muttered. But the next was 
even more exasperating. She nudged her 
husband vigorously as with a long finger 
she pointed out this and that in the picture, 
then turning to Mr. Blentmore she re- 
marked, with the confidence of the ignorant : 

“ My Obadiah ’ll make a fine artist, I 
know, fer he’s got it in him, an’ it’s baound 
ter come aout. I expect he’ll do consid’able 
better ’n that,” pointing to the canvas, “ fer 
he’s been a-paintin’ picturs on aour barn 
door with some red an’ white paint that was 
left over from paintin’ the barn, an’ I don’t 
need anybody ter tell me that he’s a genius,” 
she concluded, with a toss of her head. 


AN EVENT IN THE VILLAGE 163 

Jack Blentmore bowed. 

“ How happy you must be,” he said 
mildly, “ there is nothing so delightful as 
an absolutely sure thing.” 

Randy and Jotham found rare pleasure 
in studying the picture and talking with the 
painter and Phoebe, who were standing 
near it. 

When, during the conversation, Jack 
Blentmore learned that J otham would spend 
the winter in Cambridge, he expressed the 
hope that they might meet again, saying in 
his genial way : 

“ Come to my studio, Jotham, and see the 
picture in its frame. I assure you it will 
look much finer, and I should be truly glad 
to see you. I am at home on Thursdays, 
and here is my card. I hope you will find 
me.” 

“ Indeed I shall come. Yours will be the 
first studio I have ever entered, and I shall 
anticipate the pleasure,” Jotham answered 
cordially, grasping Jack’s outstretched 
hand. Then with a smile he added: 


164 


BANDY AND PRUE 


“ When I have inspected the picture in its 
frame, I may be able to write to some of this 
appreciative audience that the canvas, 
which looked really quite well here, is 
almost praiseworthy when seen in a frame.” 

The two laughed heartily, and each felt 
that he had found a new and congenial 
friend. 


CHAPTER IX 


OCTOBER DAYS 

A sunny September followed the sum- 
mer, and when the first October days ar- 
rived a warm yellow tone pervaded the 
landscape. Field and forest, garden and 
meadow, looked as if a golden shower had 
fallen, and in the dried grass the crickets 
chirped, cheated by warm sunlight into a 
belief that the summer had returned. A 
single butterfly floated above the marigolds, 
possibly wondering why his own color was 
paler than theirs. A little sparrow 
perched upon the pinnacle-like mullein, 
twisting his tiny head this way and that, 
eying the butterfly as if it were the first 
which he had ever seen, and as he swelled 
out his little breast he seemed as if about 
to say, a Curious fellow that ; all wings, and 
165 


166 BANDY AND PRUE 

really nothing to him. Now I have wings, 
and I am also quite a large person when you 
think of it.” 

Still gazing aslant at the insect, he ut- 
tered some loud little chirps, and appeared 
chagrined that the butterfly could wing its 
way across the field without so much as 
turning to look at his important little self. 

The two kittens, Fluffy Jotham and Or- 
lando Steubenreiser, were playing with a 
bit of dried corn-husk; it was evident that 
the ponderous names which Prue had given 
them had not in the least depressed their 
buoyant spirits, and Tabby, sitting in the 
sun, blinked fondly at their antics, a picture 
of motherly pride. 

Randy strolled out into the sunshine, 
walking leisurely down the road, through 
the stile and across the field, along the well- 
worn footpath which led to the brook. 

Mirror-like and cool it lay, a gem in the 
heart of the woodland. She held in her 
hand a branch of yellow leaves, and with it 
she lightly touched the water, lifting it to 


OCTOBER DAYS 


167 


see the bright drops fall, then bending over 
the brook, she looked long and earnestly at 
the face reflected there. 

“ That’s a very pretty picture,” said a 
merry voice behind her, “ I don’t wonder 
that you look at it.” 

“ Oh, Jotharn,” Randy answered, “ I hope 
you are not thinking me so silly as to be just 
looking admiringly at my own reflection.” 

“ I shouldn’t call that silly,” said Jotharn, 
“ because you are well worth looking at ; you 
ought to know that, Randy. But all joking 
aside, what were you thinking of so seri- 
ously? ” 

“ I was wondering if the girl whom I saw 
in the brook could ever reach the mark 
which I have set for her,” she replied 
quietly. 

“ Oh, Randy, Randy, you are humble in- 
deed. Everyone but yourself is satisfied 
with you as you are, and yet you are placing 
your standard higher. Well, I too have 
set a mark which I should like to reach,” 
said Jotharn. “ Randy, I start for Cam- 


168 


RANDY AND PRUE 


bridge to-morrow; this time to enter Har- 
vard. I see the benefit of all the hard work 
I did under Professor Harden, and now I 
want your best wishes.” 

Eagerly Randy placed her hands in his, 
as she said: 

“ I wish you all the good things which 
you hope to achieve, and all your friends 
will wish you success.” 

Silently he gazed for a moment at the 
sweet face looking at him with frank and 
steadfast eyes. Then he said : “ I have 
brought you a little gift, Randy ; look at it 
now and say if it pleases you.” 

“ You are always doing pleasant things 
for me,” said Randy. 

Jotham placed a package in her hand 
and watched the color deepening in her 
cheeks as she strove to untie the ribbon 
which held the wrappings. A knot in the 
ribbon resisted her efforts until a smart 
twitch loosened it and revealed a wee heart- 
shaped locket, which made Randy’s eyes 
sparkle. 


OCTOBER DAYS 169 

“ For me? ” she asked. “ Oh, is it truly 
mine? ” 

“ Your very own/’ Jotham answered. “ I 
wanted to be sure that you would think of 
me, Randy, during the long winter, and with 
the trinket to remind you, I know you’ll not 
quite forget,” 

“ Oh, the beautiful little locket,” said 
Randy, holding it up that the sunlight might 
make it glitter ; “ I’d rather have it than any 
other gift which you might have chosen. 
But, Jotham,” she exclaimed a moment 
later, “ you should not have thought that I 
could forget you. Not one of your friends 
would do that.” 

An odd expression, half wistful, half 
amused, swept over Jotham’s face, which 
Randy, still examining the locket, failed to 
see. 

“ I have had little leisure this summer,” 
said Jotham, “ and I am going back to the 
city feeling that I have seen my friends but 
a few times since I returned in June. I’ve 
had no time for play. Professor Harden 


170 BANDY AND PRUE 

told me that a summer’s hard work with him 
would be the price of admission to Harvard 
this year, and I said, ‘ Then I’ll work.’ ” 

“ That is just what I should have said,” 
said Randy. “ I remember that your tutor 
came to your home very soon after you re- 
turned, and how you have worked since 
then ! Truly you deserve your reward. 
How very important you must be feeling; 
a Harvard man indeed ! ” 

“ More important, possibly, than after I 
arrive at the college and meet a lot of bright 
feliows with whom I must compete, for 
I mean to stand well in my class,” he 
said. 

“Again I wish you luck,” said Randy, 
“ and while you are striving for honors you 
may think of your friends here, some of 
whom the district school will claim, while I 
shall be a flourishing housekeeper until 
Aunt Prudence returns.” 

“ Mother told me to-day how wonderfully 
you were managing Philury, which, by the 
way, must be quite a task,” said Jotham; 


OCTOBER BAYS 171 

“ and we think as old Dr. Bushnell says, 
c Randy’s a shining light,’ ” 

“ But I really enjoy it,” Randy replied, 
“ and as to ‘ managing Philury,’ she is so 
willing to do as we wish her to, that she is 
just a comfort in the home. Aunt Prudence 
is coming in the spring to visit us, and to see 
if I am a success as a housekeeper. It will 
be a high mark to reach her approval.” 

They had been walking while they talked, 
and had reached the stile. 

“ It is good-by now, Randy ; I leave early 
to-morrow morning,” Jotham answered. 
The note of regret in his voice made Randy 
look up. She had supposed that his mind 
was wholly occupied with his plans for the 
winter’s study, and wondered how aught 
but cheerful thoughts could fill his heart on 
the eve of his departure, but so vague was 
the feeling that it did not find expression in 
words. Again assuring him of her delight 
in his gift, Randy smiled as she said : 

“We shall all miss you, Jotham. You 
will be hard at work, and perhaps the time 


172 


BANDY AND PRUE 


will pass swiftly.” Jotham stood looking 
after her as she ran up the walk, when sud- 
denly little Prue came hurrying toward* 
him, clasping one of the kittens in her arms. 
In her haste to reach Jotham she uncon- 
sciously held her pet perilously close, and 
the little kitten squealed for mercy. Prue 
loosened her clasp upon Fluffy Jotham, 
saying: 

“ You mus’n’t cry, Jotham dear, for I 
love you.” 

Jotham was startled, and exclaimed: 
“ Why Prue, where did you come from, and 
what were you saying? ” 

“ I just corned from Mrs. Sandy’s,” said 
Prue, “ where I have been making a call 
with my kitten what I named for you. I 
squeezed him too tight just now, but I love 
him and I telled him not to cry. Did you 
hear me?” she asked, looking up at Jo- 
tham. 

“ I heard you, Prue,” he answered, then 
with a smile he said : 

“ I thought you were talking to me.” 


OCTOBER DAYS 


173 


“ But you’re a big, brave boy, you 
wouldn’t cry,” she answered confidently. 

Without replying, Jotham lifted Prue in 
his arms and stood her upon the end of the 
wall, thus bringing her brown eyes upon a 
level with his own. One little hand held the 
kitten against her breast, the other twisted 
a fold of her skirt as she said : 

“ Oh, Jotham, what makes you look so 
sorry in your eyes? I didn’t see it before.” 

“ I am going back to Cambridge to-mor- 
row,” he said, looking off across the fields. 

“ But you like to be to Cambridge, don’t 
you?” Prue questioned. 

“ Yes, yes, I shall like to be there,” he 
answered, “ only I have to remember that I 
leave friends behind.” 

The little girl longed to offer comfort, but 
was at loss to know what to say, when sud- 
denly her face lighted, and with a bright 
smile she made an offer which cost her 
much. 

“ I’ll give you Fluffy Jotham, then you 
won’t be so lonesome,” she said ; “ I’ll hate 


174 RANDY AND PRTJE 

to see him go, but I’ve got the other kitten, 
Orlando Steubenreiser, so you may have 
Fluffy, but do please take him quick , when I 
ain’t looking,” and the words ended in a sob. 

Jotham placed his arm about the little 
girl as he said : 

“ You’re a dear little friend, Prue, to even 
think of giving your pet to me, but I cannot 
take him. I should not have a nice place 
for him; so you may call the kitten mine, 
and while I am away take fine care of him 
for me. Will you like to do that? ” he asked 
gently, lest the child should think her gen- 
erosity unappreciated. 

“ Oh, yes, I’ll take care of Fluffy for you,” 
she said, with a sigh of relief. Although her 
offer had been genuine, it was sweet to know 
that she need not part with Fluffy. 

“ If I don’t give you Fluffy, I’ll kiss you 
good-by, for I love you,” Prue declared 
frankly, and Jotham took the little caress 
so cunningly offered, and then lifting her 
down from the wall, hastily said good-by, 
and was off down the road. 


OCTOBER DAYS 


175 


Prue had called him brave, and lest a 
moisture on his dark lashes should betray a 
bit of weakness, he made the leave-tak- 
ing brief, and sped on his way toward 
home. 

One question puzzled Prue extremely, and 
over and over in her active little mind she 
turned it. 

“ If my Randy doesn’t be going to school, 
why must I ? And if J otham’s got to go to a 
big, big school, why doesn’t Randy have 
to? ” And thus she put the question to 
her mother, who laughed heartily as she 
said : 

“ Why, Prue, some er yer questions would 
puzzle a lawyer.” 

“ Well, anyway, I’d like my school better 
if my Randy was in it, and so would every- 
body; Jemima Babson said so, and so did 
Reuben Jenks,” said Prue; “ and I think my 
Randy ought to go just ’cause folks wants 
her to.” 

“ Randy is a real comfort to me,” Mrs. 
Weston replied, “ an’ I couldn’t seem ter 


176 BANDY AND PBUE 

spare her. She’s doin’ just wonderful with 
the housekeeping an’ she intends ter do a 
deal er readin’ this winter. Miss Dayton has 
sent her a fine lot er books, fer which we’re 
all thankful, they give aour Randy such 
pleasure.” 

“ But when she reads she don’t talk,” ob- 
jected Prue; “ and I’d like her to be in my 
school with me.” 

“ Naow, Prue, ye must remember one 
thing,” said Mrs. Weston. “ Last winter 
when Randy was in Boston a-goin’ter school, 
ye used ter come home an’ feel reel lone- 
some ’cause when ye looked raound ye 
couldn’t see her. Naow , when school’s aout, 
ye can run home an’ find her, an’ that ought 
ter make ye happy.” 

“Well, it does,” said Prue; “but all the 
same, I’d like her sittin’ side er me in 
school.” 

There were many other things which Prue 
found puzzling. When, upon one occasion, 
Miss Gilman was explaining a problem in 
fractions to a particularly stupid pupil, she 


OCTOBER DAYS 177 

endeavored to make her meaning clearer by 
saying: 

“ Now, Joe, try to tell me which is the 
larger fraction, one-quarter or one-fifth. If 
you had a pie, would you have as large 
pieces if you divided it into fifths as you 
would if you cut it into fourths? ” 

Joe scratched his head, and seemed to be 
doing an amount of figuring upon his slate, 
when suddenly Prue exclaimed : 

“ Why, Miss Gilman, Joe don’t need a 
slate an’ pencil to divide a pie; mother does 
it with a knife.” 

Shouts of laughter greeted this speech, 
even Joe relaxing his puzzled frown long 
enough to join in the merriment. Upon her 
return from school, Prue informed Randy 
that “ Teacher cut her pie with a pencil,” 
and it required much argument to persuade 
her that Miss Gilman only used the word 
“pie” to explain the example, and when 
Randy had finished speaking, the little girl 
was only half convinced. 

“ Well, anyway,” she remarked ; “ I think 


178 RANDY AND PRUE 

’rithm’tic is silly. What’s the use er 
’rithm’tic? Mother don’t get a pencil out 
every time she cuts a pie.” 

Prue liked school and lessons with Randy 
near her, but without her sweet companion- 
ship the tasks seemed both useless and 
tedious. 

In Hi Babson she found a ready sym- 
pathizer, but Hi disliked school for no such 
tender reason as that which made little 
Prue’s heart heavy. Hi often said that he 
“ hated school, jest ’cause/’ and that was all 
the reason which he could be induced to 
give. He considered the school to be a 
prison, designed to deprive small boys of 
their freedom. That a few girls were also 
obliged to attend did not count. “ Girls 
were different,” he said. His restless brain 
was busy concocting plans for evading 
school sessions, or for tormenting those who 
wished to be studious. 

One morning Miss Gilman looked about 
the room, and seeing that all were occupied 
with their lessons, drew from her pocket a 


OCTOBER DAYS 179 

letter and was about to read it, when Be- 
linda Babson raised her hand. 

“ Please, Miss Gilman, my little cousin is 
absent this morning because we couldn’t 
find him, to make him come.” 

“ Possibly you will find him at dinner 
time,” the teacher answered with a smile 
(Hi’s appetite was a standing joke), “ and 
he can be here this afternoon.” 

Once more she opened her letter, and for a 
time read without interruption. Only the 
buzzing of many little lips in the primary 
class as they noisily endeavored to mem- 
orize their lessons could be heard. So com- 
pletely was the young teacher’s mind en- 
grossed with the letter from home that 
when a rousing knock sounded upon the 
door she sprang from her chair in sudden 
panic. Reuben Jenks ejaculated, “ Cricky! ” 
and even the imperturbable Langham twins 
looked a trifle startled. 

“ Want me ter see who ’t is? ” asked one 
of the larger boys, and Miss Gilman nodded 
assent. 


180 RANDY AND PRUE 

Joe hastened to the door, and as he opened 
it, Farmer Babson strode in, literally drag- 
ging Hi, who persistently hung back. A 
broad smile illumined Joshua Babson’s face 
as he said : 

“ Miss Gilman, this ere pupil er yourn 
thought best not ter come ter school this 
mornin’, an’ hopin’ ter dodge both sessions, 
he hid in the cupboard. He got a leetle tired, 
an’ thought ’twas ’baout dinner time, so he 
tackled a squash pie and finished it all, 
’cept what’s left on his face. 

“ No, don’t ye try ter wipe it off ! ” he com- 
manded, as Hi attempted to draw his sleeve 
across his face. “ I want ’em all ter know 
what a terrible good time ye had.” 

Again addressing the teacher, he said : 

“ It’s my idee bringin’ him a-lookin’ so 
like time. His ma wanted ter wash him up 
a leetle, but I said no; mebbe he’ll think best 
ter-morrer ter git ready on time, an’ ’stead 
er hidin’, come erlong ter school with the 
rest. 

“ Ye needn’t squirm,” Uncle Joshua con- 


OCTOBER DAYS 


181 


tinued ; “ turn raound, Hi, an’ let ’em all see 
ef they ever seen such a sight as ye be, be- 
fore.” 

It was impossible for teacher or pupils to 
refrain from laughing. Not that so much of 
Hi’s treat remained upon his face, but be- 
cause of the comical expression which the 
little daubs of yellow gave him. He had 
evidently striven to devour his treat with all 
haste, before his hiding-place was discov- 
ered, and as a consequence of forcing his 
chubby face well into the pie, a yellow line 
ran from the corner of his mouth toward 
his ears, thus giving the impression of a wide 
and “ golden ” smile. 

Hi was filled with chagrin, but was his 
rebellious little spirit cowed? Not a bit of 
it. Even while his uncle was speaking, he 
was trying to decide which of two schemes 
would be most likely to enable him to avoid 
attending school on the following day. 

After Mr. Babson had departed, Miss Gil- 
man sent Hi with Jemima out to the 
wooden pump, and when the two returned, 


182 RANDY AND PRUE 

the small boy’s face was very clean, and as 
he took his usual seat beside Prue, he looked 
as if intent upon being a pattern pupil, but 
Miss Gilman remembered that Hi was not 
to be trusted, and she watched him closely. 
Immediately in front of him sat Tommy 
Buffum, Johnny’s younger brother, who was 
attending school for the first time. 

Later, when the teacher was listening to 
the recitation of the grammar class at the 
opposite side of the room, Hi looked about 
for something which might afford him 
amusement. He intended that Tommy 
should be the victim of his joke, but what 
could he do? 

Tommy bent his head to closely examine 
the pictures in his primer, and seeing the 
space between his collar and his neck, Hi 
looked in his desk, but could find noth- 
ing smaller than a book. In disgust he 
thrust his hands into his pockets, and almost 
whistled when he felt some crackers there. 
Quickly, yet softly, he broke them into bits, 
and then, taking a large handful, slipped 


OCTOBER DAYS 183 

the dry crumbs down the back of Tommy’s 
neck. 

“Wow — ow!” shouted Tommy, grasp- 
ing his collar and prancing about in the 
aisle. 

Miss Gilman hastened to see what had 
caused the disturbance. 

Tommy was clutching at his collar, and 
howling wildly. 

Hi Babson was suspiciously studious. 

“ Stop crying, Tommy,” said the teacher, 
“ and tell me whc has troubled you.” 

“ Ow — ow ! ” shrieked the small boy, as 
every wriggle of his little body caused the 
dry crumbs to scratch the tender flesh. 

“ Hi’s gone an’ put a lot er critters daown 
my back — ow ! ” 

“ Hitty, you and J ohnny may take Tommy 
into the entry and see if you can help him,” 
said Miss Gilman, and when they had gone 
she said, “ Hi, you may come to me ! ” 

Hi obeyed. He dared not do otherwise; 
not one of her pupils had ever heard her 
speak so sternly. She had, in every case, 


184 BANDY AND PRUE 

found gentleness, coupled with firmness, all 
that was necessary to keep order, but Hi 
Babson was an exception to every rule, and 
she knew that it was a simple question of 
rule or be ruled. 

“ Now, Hi,” she said ; “ you can be a good 
boy if you will, I know that; but you have 
chosen to be a bad boy ever since you first 
came to me. 

“ I am going to give you your choice now. 
I have been patient long enough. You may 
behave yourself well or not, just as you 
choose, but the first time I find you doing 
anything mischievous, I shall send word to 
your uncle Joshua that you need a whip- 
ping, and I think he will see that you have 
it.” 

“ Hi got a lickin’ last week ; I heerd the 
slaps a-goin’ on, an’ heerd Hi a-screechin’,” 
volunteered a small urchin in the front row. 

Ignoring this valuable bit of information, 
the teacher continued : 

“ You heard what I said. Did you under- 
stand me, Hi? ” 


OCTOBER DAYS 185 

“ Fd orter ” Hi answered, and there was 
that in his manner which led Miss Gilman 
to believe that, for a time at least, peace was 
restored. 

There was little more than a year’s dif- 
ference between Johnny Buffum and his 
sister Hitty, and each was anxious to prove 
the smarter of the two. Their little exhibi- 
tions of rivalry were very amusing, and at 
times Tommy, the youngest of the three, 
would attempt to participate in their dis- 
putes by telling of his own prowess. 

“ I’m a-doin’ long division, an’ you’re a- 
doin’ short, so I’m ahead, Hitty,” said 
Johnny one morning; “’n short ain’t near 
so hard ’s long.” 

“ You stop braggin’, Johnny Buffum,” 
Hitty retorted ; “ ’f I’m doin’ short division, 

I do it right . I heard teacher say every one of 
your sums were wrong yesterday ; so now ! ” 

While Johnny tried to think of an answer 
which should completely crush Hitty, 
Tommy rushed between them, proudly hold- 
ing his slate so that both might see. 


186 


BANDY AND PRUE 


“ This beats yer both,” he drawled in his 
usual deliberate manner. 

“ My figgers on that top line is most as 
good as teacher’s.” 

“An’ who couldn’t make numbers?” ex- 
claimed Johnny derisively. 

“ You ’n Hitty couldn’t,” answered con- 
fident Tommy; “your sums is done with 
horrid ol’ figgers. When I get ter doin’ 
sums I mean ter make ’em look fine.” 

“ I don’t care ’f I only git the answer,” 
said Hitty, but Tommy’s pride in his work 
could not be quenched, and day by day he 
plodded on, determined to improve upon 
what he already considered very fine work. 

The determination to succeed, and, if pos- 
sible, to surpass their mates, was not limited 
to the younger pupils ; pride, giving a spur 
to ambition, led the greater number of 
pupils to work with a will, and the result 
was gratifying to the young teacher, who 
labored to make her school a success. Her 
classes were made up from boys and girls of 
all ages, commencing with the tots who were 


OCTOBER DAYS 187 

in their first school year, to those who were 
well advanced in rhetoric and mathematics. 
One pupil felt that she had a claim to dis- 
tinction beyond anything which fine scholar- 
ship could give, and whenever a pupil’s 
prowess was especially noticeable, Phoebe 
would say complacently: 

“ Yes, she’s getting a fine average in her 
studies, but ” 

She would never complete the sentence 
aloud, but under her breath she would say 
to herself : 

“ But she’s never had an artist paint her 
picture.” 


CHAPTER X 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 

Months had passed since the burning of 
the mill, and while its loss was keenly felt 
by the villagers, other events claimed their 
attention, and the charred ruins, which at 
first attracted many curious pedestrians, 
had lain for weeks unnoticed, unexplored. 

Immediately after the fire, troops of small 
boys and village loafers had armed them- 
selves with long sticks, and raked over the 
blackened pile as if expecting to find a for- 
tune hidden there, but as time wore on, and 
nothing of value was found, their enthusi- 
asm abated, and the spot where once the old 
mill had stood was deserted. Deserted? 
One there was who daily found his way 
there, wandering about as if in a dream, and 
that was Martin Meers. 

On the night of the fire he had stared 
138 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 189 


helplessly as the flames destroyed the mill, 
and since that night he had seemed as if 
stunned by the loss which he had suffered. 
Possessed of ample means with which to 
rebuild, he had taken no steps toward recon- 
structing, and expostulation from wife, son, 
or neighbors seemed alike unavailing, until 
one morning, as if awakening from a dream, 
he turned sharply to his son as he exclaimed : 

“ I’m a-goin’ ter build a bigger mill than 
the one I had afore, an’ I want ye should 
ride over ter the Centre with me this 
mornin’, fer fear I’ll change my mind, an’ 
come home ’thout givin’ the order ter the 
builders. I’ve been so cast daown ’t I 
couldn’t seem ter make a start, but naow 
I’ve ’woke, so ter speak, I guess nothin’ ’ll 
stop me.” 

Mrs. Meers stood in the doorway watch- 
ing her husband and son as they drove off 
down the road, and a wordless prayer of 
thankfulness filled her heart that at last the 
husband and father, who had ever been kind 
and gentle at home, had been aroused from 


190 BANDY AND PBUE 

his melancholy, and was once more his 

cheery, light-hearted self. 

One morning the sound of the hammers 
upon the new building made many hearts 
glad, and there was much rejoicing that the 
town was to have a mill of its own. The 
farmers had begrudged the time required to 
reach the one in the next village, and they 
assured Martin Meers that all their grist 
should come to him as soon as the new build- 
ing was completed. The men whom Meers 
had formerly employed had easily found 
work upon the large farms, but as soon as 
they learned that the mill was to be rebuilt 
they signified their desire to quit farming 
and to again work for him. 

Then the prejudice against Orlando Steu- 
benreiser, which had been smoldering, 
blazed forth in a torrent of accusation, one 
man going so far as to charge him with 
firing the mill, asserting that he could prove 
what he said to be true ; and Steubenreiser, 
stolid creature that he was, neither admitted 
nor denied his guilt. Always a quiet man, 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 191 
he seemed to have grown more silent, more 
reserved. He had come to America when a 
child, and spoke with only an occasional 
German accent. It was, however, but sel- 
dom that he chose to speak at all, and the 
open dislike of those about him seemed to 
have sealed his lips. It appeared as if 
the entire village had turned against 
him, yet friends he had, firm friends and 
true. 

While Steubenreiser remained silent, his 
enemies seemed to be working day and night 
to injure him, and they besieged Martin 
Meers, assuring him that the German was 
at the bottom of the destruction of the mill, 
and that no honest man would allow such a 
miscreant to be at large. 

Weak, irresolute, longing to protect Steu- 
benreiser, yet fearing the displeasure of his 
townspeople, Martin Meers wavered. One 
day determined to protect the man whom he 
believed innocent, the next fearing that his 
business would suffer if he failed to listen 
to the clamor of the people, he hesitated, 


192 RANDY AND PRUE 

and in that moment lost the last bit 
of strength to withstand their importun- 
ing. 

In his leather chair in the tiny room 
which he called his office sat John Everton, 
familiarly called Lawyer Everton, and as 
the light from the hanging lamp touched his 
kindly face, one would have said : “ Here is 
a man who is just and true.” His firm mouth 
weighed its words, yet the lips parted in a 
bright smile for the children, and while his 
keen blue eyes could gaze so sternly at a 
falsifier as to cause him to wince, they could 
look with warm admiration upon the young 
man whose ambition led him to struggle for 
success. 

In the doorway, hesitating and irresolute, 
stood Martin Meers, nervously fingering the 
brim of the hat which he held in his hand, 
as he tried to decide whether to take the 
proffered chair or continue to stand. At 
loss to understand his unusual diffidence, 
the lawyer leaned forward and scanned the 
face before him. 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 193 

“Well, Martin, what is it?” he asked; 
“you never seemed like this before. Sit 
down, sit down, and have it out.” 

At that Meers seemed to regain the ability 
to speak. 

“ It’s this plaguey bother ’baout Steuben- 
reiser,” said he ; “ with everybody a-pesterin’ 
me this way an’ that, I’m ’bliged ter have 
the feller ’rested I s’pose, ’though I must 
say I don’t like ter.” 

John Everton looked the astonishment 
which he felt. 

“Then why on earth do you do it?” he 
asked. 

“ Wal, feelin’ ’s all agin him, as ye know, 
an’ most folks b’lieves he burnt the mill, an’ 
they argy that ef he’d burn one thing he’d 
burn another, an’ that ef that’s the case 
’tain’t safe fer him ter be at large,” said 
Meers, in a manner which plainly showed 
that he hoped that his explanation would, 
in some slight degree, excuse his apparent 
willingness to have the man arrested. A 
silence*. which became awkward, caused 


194 


RANDY AND PRUE 


Meers to raise liis eyes, when, suddenly lean- 
ing forward, Lawyer Everton said: 

“ Martin Meers, do you believe him to be 
guilty? ” 

“ N — no,” faltered Meers, “ but the folks 
all ’baout here seem ter ’spect me ter do 
sutliin’ ’baout it.” 

Half pityingly, half contemptuously, 
Lawyer Everton said : 

“ We will have a preliminary hearing be- 
fore going further with the case, and, per- 
haps, that will settle the question of his in- 
nocence or guilt, and satisfy his accusers 
and the public at the same time.” 

“ Do ye mean ter ” 

“ You will learn with the rest w r hat I in- 
tend to do at the hearing. I have some 
papers here which call for my immediate 
attention,” he continued, and Martin Meers 
thought best to withdraw. 

John Everton, standing before his desk, 
looked after the receding figure and brought 
his fist down firmly upon the solid oak shelf 
as he ejaculated : 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 195 

“ Of all the irresolute, characterless, 
spunkless — well, I believe there are not 
words enough to describe so good a man as 
that, who is utterly devoid of New England 
backbone.” 

Although Lawyer Everton declined to 
talk of the matter until the day set for the 
hearing ; although Martin Meers, when ques- 
tioned, was persistently silent; the fact be- 
came known that there was to be a meeting, 
when, before the stern old lawyer, Orlando 
Steubenreiser would be forced to say if he 
were innocent or guilty, and every enemy 
whom the man could name seemed ready and 
eager to testify against him. 

Excitement ran high, and the stolid Ger- 
man, as he saw the scowling faces and heard 
the ill-suppressed murmurings of his deter- 
mined accusers, wondered if, in all the 
world, there was one whom he could call his 
friend. 

Yes, there was one whose firm friendship 
he dearly prized, but she was a little win- 
some child, who had fearlessly, lovingly 


196 BANDY AND PRUE 

trusted him. What could she do for him? 
Would they, these older, wiser, harder- 
hearted ones be able to make his child friend 
believe him to be a fire -fiend? 

Orlando sighed. In a vague way he hoped 
that they would leave the little girl unpreju- 
diced ; he could not spare her friendship, it 
was so true,* so well worth having. 

Little Prue had kept her toy boat most 
carefully, and whenever, between school 
sessions, she had taken it to admire its 
graceful curves and its tiny mast, her 
father, Kandy, or Philury had grasped the 
opportunity to mention that Orlando had 
spent the whole afternoon in making it, and 
that when he had said “ Good-night ” as she 
reached the door, they had immediately seen 
the fire-lit sky. 

“ I know Orlando made my boat the day 
somebody made the mill burn,” Prue would 
invariably answer, “ and when it was ’most 
dark he said he’d have to hurry to get it 
done. He w T alked way home with me.” 

A few days before the one chosen for the 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 197 
hearing Randy was returning from the 
Centre along a lonely part of the road, and 
so deep in thought was she that she did not 
notice a slouching figure which leaned 
against a tree, and, with a scowling face, 
watched her approach. She was thinking 
of Prue and wondering if the little sister 
would be able to testify so clearly, so posi- 
tively, as to materially help the German’s 
cause. 

“ I will stand closely beside her,” thought 
Randy, “ and if I hold her hand she will not 
be afraid.” 

The Weston family had been formally 
summoned to appear, and the Squire had ex- 
plained that as there was such intense preju- 
dice against Steubenreiser, it was necessary, 
if they wished to help him prove his inno- 
cence, that they answer all questions 
promptly, and give any evidence which they 
might possess as clearly as possible. 

As Randy sped along the road her mind 
was so filled with thoughts of the hearing 
before Lawyer Everton that she was wholly 


198 BANDY AND PRUE 

unaware of another’s presence until a surly 
voice addressed her. 

“ ’Spectin’ ter cut quite a figger ’fore the 
lawyer, come Tuesday, ain’t ye? ” 

Randy started at the sound of the gruff 
voice, and the man laughed as he approached 
her. 

“ Goin’ ter do yer level best ter save 
Steubenreiser? They say yer pa means ter, 
so I s’pose ye’ll be likely ter do the same.” 

Randy looked at the man and hesitated an 
instant; then she said: 

“ I shall tell the truth.” 

“ Then I’ll inform ye that he fired the mill 
? s sure ’s my name ’s Dan Marcy, so ’f yer 
Mound ter tell the truth, Randy Weston, 
ye’ll tell that. Do ye hear? ” 

Randy made no answer. The man before 
her was w T ell known and feared throughout 
the village as a shiftless, graceless fellow 
whom one would do well to avoid, and she 
refrained from answering lest her trembling 
voice should betray her terror. 

Dan Marcy was a coward and a bully, and 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 199 
Randy knew that the least show of fear 
upon her part would greatly strengthen his 
courage. She was about to pass him, when 
he exclaimed : 

“ Why don’t ye answer, er don’t ye know 
what ter say? Let me tell ye one thing,” 
he continued, “yer father means ter stand 
by Steubenreiser, they say, but I tell ye, I’ll 
land him in the caounty jail; that’s where 
a lot er people would like ter see him, an’ 
there he’ll be ef I can manage it, whether he 
fired the mill or not.” 

In a moment Randy’s scorn triumphed 
over her fear. Turning sharply around and 
facing the man she said : 

“ And you would be willing to convict an 
innocent man? ” 

Her face was white, and her slender 
figure seemed taller, as in her anger and 
scorn she looked into the dark face before 
her. 

Surprise, chagrin, and even a bit of ad- 
miration swept over the surly face. For a 
moment he hesitated, then, without a word, 


200 


RANDY AND TRUE 


turned and slouched away, and when the 
bend of the road hid his skulking figure, 
Bandy turned toward home, her physical 
strength nearly spent, but her courage and 
bravery not one whit daunted. Prue ran to 
meet her. 

“ Oh, Bandy,” she exclaimed, “ Philury ’s 
makin’ a Johnny-cake for supper, an’ she 
let me beat the eggs an put in the m’lasses, 
so the cake’s part mine. Why, how queer 
you look, Kandy; you look scared or some- 
thing.” 

“ I am all right,” Randy answered, with 
a smile, thus trying to reassure Prue, but 
the little girl watched her closely, and upon 
entering the house confided to Philury that 
her Randy was “ tired or something, and 
not like Randy ’t all.” 

Of her encounter with Dan Marcy, Randy 
said nothing until Prue was safely tucked 
in bed. She did not wish the little sister 
to be at all afraid of anyone whom she 
would have to meet on the morrow. 

There were two large rooms over Barnes’ 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 201 


store. One was occupied by Janie Clifton 
as a dressmaking “ parlor,” and the other 
by the “ selectmen,” by the school board 
for committee meetings, and at other times 
as a reading room in lieu of a library, which 
the town did not possess. 

A bare and cheerless aspect it usually 
presented, its plastered walls undecorated, 
and its curtainless windows letting in a 
flood of sunlight between the branches which 
tapped softly against the pane. A rude at- 
tempt at a bookcase held the few volumes 
which had been contributed, and, judging 
from their titles, one would say that the 
most pronounced kleptomaniac could not be 
tempted to steal them. A table and a few 
chairs were its only possessions, but on this 
sunny morning the greater number present 
were seated, chairs having been borrowed 
for the occasion. At the table sat Lawyer 
Everton, an unusually stern expression 
upon his fine face. 

Little Prue sat upon her father’s knee, 
and looked wonderingly about at the assem- 


202 BANDY AND PRTJE 

bled company, while Randy, too nervous to 
be seated, stood beside the Squire, her hand 
upon his shoulder. Philury Flanders sat 
near them, resplendent in a new hat of J anie 
Clifton’s designing. In her hand she firmly 
grasped a large cotton umbrella, occasion- 
ally turning it about that she might allow 
those near her to study the beauty of its 
horn handle. 

“ I’m goin’ ter wear my best hat, Mis’ 
Weston,” she had said ; “ cause my mind 
works better under fine headgear, an’ I’ll 
take my ambrill ter pertect me from the 
showers er eloquence I expect ter hear ef 
all the good-for-nothin’ loafers in this taown 
has sot their minds on speakin’ agin Steu- 
benreiser. I hope Lawyer Everton ’ll look 
at ’em in a way that ’ll make ’em feel fool- 
ish; tho’, come ter think on ’t, there’s one 
er two on ’em that couldn’t look anything 
else.” 

She had laughed when she had made this 
scathing remark, but when with her friends 
she sat eagerly waiting for Lawyer Everton 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 203 
to speak, her hilarity was not in evidence, 
and her face wore an expression of concern 
as she glanced from Prue to Orlando, and 
back again to Prue; and she wondered 
if the little girl would be frightened when 
asked to testify. She hoped that the stern 
old lawyer would fit his questions to the 
tiny witness. 

Jabez Brimblecom sat near the window, 
his shrewd eyes scanning a group of men 
who stood near him conversing in under- 
tones, and evidently expressing opinions re- 
garding the probable guilt or innocence of 
the German. 

Steubenreiser sat apart, a stolid expres- 
sion upon his face, which defied those who 
wished to read his thoughts. He had picked 
up two bits of string from the floor, and as 
if to impress those present with his indif- 
ference, or to hide a genuine anxiety which 
he felt, he busied himself with tying and un- 
tying innumerable knots, as if no greater 
matter hung in the balance. 

Prue’s eyes roved about the room until 


204 


RANDY AND PRTJE 


they rested upon her friend, when, turning 
to her father, she whispered : 

“ May I go and talk to Orlando? Nobody 
else does, and he looks lonesome.” 

The child had read what no one else could 
see. 

“ Not jest naow, Prue,” said Mr. Weston, 
gently ; then, seeing the question in her eyes, 
he said, “ Ye might disturb the meeting.” 

“ But they all talks,” said Prue, pointing 
a wee finger at the group of men ; “ they all 
talks, but not to him.” 

Before the Squire could answer, Lawyer 
Everton raised his hand for silence, and 
Prue, in watching him, forgot to question 
further. 

It was an informal hearing, before a most 
informal gathering, and briefly, yet clearly, 
John Ever ton reminded them that the mill 
had caught fire at twilight, burning until 
only bits of charred timbers remained; re- 
called the fact that weeks of disagreement 
among the hands had on that day culmi- 
nated in a general refusal to work. Then 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 205 
he spoke of the meeting which had been 
called in order to have a preliminary hear- 
ing, and urged upon them their duty to tell 
the “ truth, the whole truth, and nothing but 
the truth.” 

“ You have been unanimous in accusing 
one man of firing the mill. Have you just 
cause for doing so? ” he asked. “ Think 
before you speak, and say if you can sub- 
stantiate your charges. It is no light mat- 
ter to falsely accuse.” 

Martin Meers, tremulously regretful that 
he had allowed himself to listen to the mur- 
murings of Steubenreiser’s accusers, shifted 
uneasily from one side of his chair to the 
other, and felt that he deserved John Ever- 
ton’s admonition quite as much as any man 
in the room. 

There appeared to be no dearth of willing 
witnesses, but their testimony seemed to 
consist of wordy efforts to condemn the 
man, rather than important statements 
which could justify conviction. 

One after another arose to his feet and 


206 RANDY AND PRUE 

ambled through a dissertation upon the 
probable guilt of the German, but of them 
all not one could say that he had actually 
seen the man near the mill on the day of the 
fire. At last one excited individual arose 
and exclaimed: 

“ I want ter see him in jail, Lawyer Ever- 
ton ! ” 

“ That is practically what each witness 
thus far has said,” said the lawyer ; “ the 
only difference is, that you have had the cour- 
age to say bluntly just what you mean, while 
the others have thought best to beat around 
the bush. It is not enough that you should 
wish to have your unreasoning prejudice 
gratified, and strive to place this man in jail 
by blindly insisting that he set fire to the 
mill. Such statements are worthless unless 
you can back them with proof, ample and 
positive proof, of his guilt.” 

An old farmer, whose sharp eyes beneath 
his shaggy brows had been closely watching 
the lawyer while he was speaking, arose, 
apparently in great excitement. 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 207 
“ Look er here, Lawyer Everton ! Ain’t 
it ’nougli ter convict a man ef every fifth 
man in the taown kin swear that the one 
they says is guilty is more likely ter er done 
it than anybody else? ” he said. 

“ Of course not,” cried John Everton 
vehemently. “If such so-called evidence 
were sufficient, we could convict you , since 
you have the reputation in town of never 
feeling kindly toward anyone, and of pos- 
sessing a willingness to do any mean act 
which is not actually punishable by law; 
how are we to know that you did not carry 
your well-known dislike for Martin Meers 
a step farther than usual, and in a spirit of 
malice, fire his mill?” 

u I never teched it ! ” roared the old 
farmer. 

“ And I did not accuse you of doing it,” 
said the lawyer, with a faint smile. “ I 
only attempted to show you that such testi- 
mony as you have given would be as worth- 
less to convict one man as another. It ap- 
pears that you are able to see the point.” 


208 BANDY AND PRUE 

The irate farmer subsided, and Mr. Wes- 
ton was asked to tell how, on the day of the 
fire, he had been summoned in the forenoon 
to leave the meadow to go to the mill and 
use his influence with the men to induce 
them to work peaceably together. 

Philury Flanders corroborated his state- 
ments, and caused much amusement when 
she told how Bob Witherspoon, shouting at 
the kitchen door, had caused her to drop her 
panful of hot doughnuts. 

Martin Meers then told of the men’s final 
refusal at noontime to return to work, and 
that the mill had been closed all the after- 
noon. 

“ An’ at twilight ’twas a-burnin’ like fury, 
an’ who sot it I do’no’ ; but I do know I don’t 
’cuse nobody er doin’ it,” he said, his nervous 
manner and trembling voice showing that 
he would gladly have had nothing to do with 
the matter. Pityingly he glanced toward 
Steubenreiser, his heart filled with genuine 
regret that he had allowed himself to listen 
to his neighbors’ clamoring. 



With her little arms outstretched as if to screen him she 
LOOKED AT I)AN MaRCY WITH FLASHING EYES Page 209 





A PRELIMINARY HEARING 209 

All this time Orlando had seemed to be 
utterly uninterested in the proceedings, but 
as he raised his eyes to glance at Martin 
Meers, something in the expression of the 
miller’s face moved him to speak. Rising 
slowly, he looked first at Martin Meers, and 
then at Lawyer Everton; then he said, 
slowly and firmly: 

“ I neffer burnt it; I neffer burnt it, sir,” 
and although he chose to remain standing, 
he seemed to have nothing further to 
say. 

A slouching figure, at the far end of the 
room, arose, and pointing a grimy finger 
toward the German, shouted : 

“He done it, Lawyer Everton ! He sot 
fire to ’t. I seen him, when I was a-goin’ by 
there in the afternoon.” 

“You never, you know you never!” 

It was Prue’s little piping voice, and be- 
fore her father dreamed of her intention, she 
had slipped from his knee and ran across 
the room to Orlando, where, leaning against 
him, with her little arms outstretched as if 


210 RANDY AND PRUE 

to screen him, she looked at Dan Marcy with 

flashing eyes. 

“ You never saw him do it,” she cried, 
“ for he was in the lane all the afternoon 
with me, a-makin’ me a pretty boat. I’d 
think you’d be ’fraid to tell such a naughty 
story.” 

Steubenreiser looked down in surprise at 
his tiny protector, and Dan Marcy stared 
open-mouthed at the child who had dared 
to contradict his statement. A hush fol- 
lowed, Orlando’s accusers wondering if Prue 
were sure of what she was saying. 

“ Come to me, Prue,” said the lawyer. 
“ Steubenreiser is safe, if you are quite right 
in what you say.” 

“ Every word she’s said is true as preach- 
in’,” said Philury, rising, and as she ex- 
citedly flourished her umbrella, she was 
quite unaware that she had, with its hook 
handle, removed two hats from the heads of 
those who sat close behind her. The lawyer 
inclined his head, at the same time motion- 
ing for Philury to be seated. 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 211 

“ Now, my little girl,” he said, taking 
Prue’s chubby hand in his own, “ you must 
tell me all about the afternoon and the boat 
which you say Orlando made for you. Is 
this it? ” he asked, as he took from the table 
a graceful little craft., and held it so that 
Prue might examine it. 

“ Why, that’s my boat ; where did you get 
it? ” she asked in surprise. 

“ Your father brought it here,” was the 
reply. Then turning, he said : 

“ Tell me if anyone present thinks that he 
could make and finish as fine a little boat as 
this in an afternoon, and have time enough 
beside to admit of his walking two miles and 
a half to set a fire.” 

Then he turned to Prue, who leaned 
against his knee and eagerly scanned his 
face. 

“ You ain’t going to let them hurt Or- 
lando, are you?” she asked, and those who 
watched the German saw his face work 
painfully. It was evident that Prue’s 
solicitude moved him as threats were power- 


212 BANDY AND PBUE 

less to do. Very gently the stern lawyer 
questioned the little girl until she had told 
the whole story of the afternoon, from the 
commencing of work upon the little boat to 
the walk home in the twilight ; of Orlando’s 
placing the finished toy in her hands as he 
said, “ Good night,” and of the red sky which 
they all saw from the doorway. Then the 
Squire and Randy vouched for all Prue, had 
said, and Randy told of her meeting with 
Dan Marcy. 

“ Did Marcy say anything whatever to 
you of Steubenreiser? ” questioned the law- 
yer. 

Randy still stood beside her father, and 
her hand, as it lay upon his shoulder, trem- 
bled as she repeated the coward’s words. 

“ He said, ‘ I shall land him in the county 
jail whether he fired the mill or not.’ ” 

“ That will do,” said Lawyer Everton, 
“ and now, Marcy, since you know so much 
about the matter, it is possible that you may 
know even more about it than we think.” 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 213 
Of course Dan Marcy at once loudly dis- 
claimed all knowledge of the affair, but the 
lawyer so worried him with questions that 
he lost his bravado, and his defiant attitude 
changed to one of abject fear. He persist- 
ently contradicted his own statements, at 
first declaring that on the day of the fire he 
was in a town some miles distant, and a few 
moments later, in answer to judicial ques- 
tioning, he came to the conclusion that he 
was on the farm which adjoined the mill 
property on that eventful afternoon. Marcy 
was a coward, and Lawyer Everton believed 
that he could be startled into an admission 
of some knowledge of the fire. 

For a moment Dan Marcy and John Ever- 
ton looked each other in the eye. Then sud- 
denly the lawyer exclaimed : 

“ Marcy, did you fire the mill? ” 

“Wh — what — why, hoaw do ye ? Oh, 

Lawyer Everton, ye don’t mean ter ’nsini- 

wate that ye think ’t I ” 

The cowardly whine ended in a gasp, and 


214 BANDY AND PRUE 

Jabez Brimblecom informed his next neigh- 
bor that he guessed John Everton had hit 
the nail on the head. 

Marcy in his terror never dreamed that 
the lawyer’s question, so bluntly asked, was 
but a shrewd man’s guess at the truth, de- 
signed to force an admission. Further 
adroit questioning resulted in a confession 
which Dan Marcy made, hoping thereby to 
win favor with the lawyer and bespeak his 
clemency. 

Then the hearing came to an abrupt end- 
ing, Marcy being hurried away in custody 
of the sheriff, and Orlando receiving con- 
gratulations without stint.. 

Martin Meers was the first to take him by 
the hand. 

“ I b’lieved in ye all ’long, Orlando,” he 
said, “ an’ I guess we kin ’range ter hev ye 
work for me agin.” 

Orlando shook the proffered hand as he 
answered : 

“ I work for you the same as effer.” 

Two of his former fellow workmen greeted 


A PRELIMINARY HEARING 215 

him, and a third followed, ashamed to with- 
hold his hand. 

Prue’s words went straight to his heart, 
as she said : 

“ I knew you was good, Orlando, and now 
everybody knows it.” 

“ She is the best of all,” he said, as he 
gently laid his hand upon her hair. 

When once more out in the sunshine, 
Philury Flanders shrugged her shoulders 
and uttered a sigh of relief. 

“ I kin breathe once more naow Fm out of 
a roomful er men that’s mean ’nough ter 
want ter persecoot ’n honest man,” she 
said. 

Randy and her father talked quietly of 
Orlando’s acquittal, and Prue was so deeply 
impressed that she had little to say, but 
when she reached home she ran out to her 
swing, and as if to give rent to suppressed 
excitement, she sprang into it, and to a 
merry little tune she sang : 

“ Orlando’s safe, 

Orlando’s safe, 

I know it, know it, know it ! ” 


216 RANDY AND PRUE 

The breeze blew her soft curls, as back 
and forth she flew as if on wings, and over 
and over she sang her odd little verse, end- 
ing it always triumphantly — 


“ I know it, know it, know it !” 


CHAPTER XI 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 

Spring had come, and Randy, standing by 
the window, looked out upon the budding 
trees and the warm sunlight, and laughed 
softly as she thought of Phoebe Small’s 
prophecy, which she had uttered in the 
autumn with the assurance of an oracle. 

“ You’ll find it pretty dull music to spend 
the winter at home after your fine times at 
Miss Dayton’s lovely home in Boston. Last 
winter gay, and this winter stupid ; the com- 
parison will not be complimentary to our 
little town.” 

Thus Phoebe had spoken, and now that 
the spring had come, she was obliged to con- 
fess that the season had been unusually gay, 
and that Randy, with her sweet face and 
cheerful, genial manner, had done much 
217 


218 RANDY AND PRUE 

toward making their little informal parties 

successful. 

Philury, rollicking, kind-hearted Philury, 
had made it possible for Randy credita- 
bly to fill the position of housekeeper, and 
yet have leisure for countless good times, 
and for carefully, thoughtfully reading the 
fine books which Helen Dayton often sent to 
her. 

With all the fun and frolic, Randy had 
been a sweet companion for her mother, 
finding time to read to her, and to go out 
with her on pleasant days, and now Mrs. 
Weston was once more her bright, energetic 
self. 

“ I owe it all to Randy,” she said to her 
friends ; “ she’s been a companion f er me, 
an’ a chum for little Prue.” 

All this was true, and it was equally true 
that while Randy had enjoyed the winter, 
there had been some trying experiences 
which had taxed her patience and required 
a world of tact to meet. 

Philury Flanders, the soul of good nature, 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 


219 


was, like most energetic persons, opinion- 
ated, and, while willing to work from sun- 
rise to sunset, was determined to do it in 
her way. 

“Ye ain’t experienced, Randy,” she would 
say, “ an’ the way I’m a-doin’ this ’ere job 
is the only w T ay ter do it.” 

At such times it was vain for Randy to 
protest. 

The winter’s pleasures had, however, far 
outweighed its little trials, and as she looked 
out across the fields, and saw the soft green 
appearing upon the trees which formed an 
arch over the winding road to the village, 
she thought of the sleighride over the same 
road, when the merry bells had played a 
tinkling accompaniment to laughter and 
song. \ 

In her hand she held a letter from 
Jotham, which she had been reading, and as 
she thought of all which he had to tell, she 
caressed the little gold locket which hung 
from a ribbon about her throat, 

“ He is a true friend,” she thought, and 


220 RANDY AND PRUE 

Phoebe Small, who entered without cere- 
mony, exclaimed: 

“ You were dreaming, Randy, and I came 
to awaken you. What do you think? Mr. 
Blentmore has just sent me a catalogue of 
the great exhibition, and a letter, in which 
he says that his picture of me is hung in a 
fine light, and that there were crowds of 
people before it all the time. How I wish 
I could see it in its gold frame.” 

“ How fine to have everyone pleased with 
it,” said Randy. “ I have just been reading 
a letter from Jotham. He has seen the pic- 
ture, and he tells me that ‘ although we ad- 
mired it, we never dreamed of its genuine 
loveliness. Seen in its frame at Mr. Blent- 
more’s studio, and at the exhibition, it seems 
like Phoebe herself standing by the spring 
in the summer sunshine.’ ” 

Phoebe was about to answer, when Mrs. 
Hodgkins drove up to the house and, hastily 
alighting, rushed in at the open door, ex- 
claiming : 

“ How d’ye do, Randy? Where is yer 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 221 
ma? Oh, I didn’t notice ye, Phoebe, coinin’ 
in out’n the light. Haow be ye? 

“ Oh, here ye be, Mis’ Weston. Wal, ’thout 
any prelim’naries I’ll come ter the p’int, an’ 
tell ye that I druv over ter say that Janie 
Clifton ’s got a mil’nery openin’, as she calls 
it, an’ she said, ‘ Tell everybody ye meet ; ’ an’ 
says I, I will, an’ also a few others that I’ll 
have ter go aout er my way ter see, so I jest 
druv up here ter ask ye ef ye wouldn’t like 
ter run daown ter the Centre an’ see the hats 
an’ bunnits, fiaowers an’ feathers, ’n all the 
new idees that Janie’s a-showin’.” 

She paused for breath, and Phoebe 
grasped the opportunity to urge Randy to 
meet her early in the afternoon, when, to- 
gether, they might proceed to the Centre 
and view the wonders of Janie Clifton’s 
“ opening.” 

Mrs. Weston had made plans for the af- 
ternoon which she felt that she could not set 
aside, and therefore decided that she would 
wait until another day to inspect the finery; 
but Randy and Phoebe felt that their en- 


222 RANDY AND PRUE 

thusiasm would not permit them to postpone 
their call at Janie’s store, and early in the 
afternoon Randy hastened along the road in 
an endeavor to be prompt in keeping her ap- 
pointment with Phoebe. Prue accompanied 
her, skipping beside her, and cheerily sing- 
ing: 

“ We’re going to see the bunnits, 

The bunnits, bunnits, bunnits/’ 

At the bridge she insisted upon pausing to 
drop tiny green leaves into the water, in 
order to have the pleasure of watching them 
float upon the surface and disappear under 
the bridge. 

“ Come, Prue, hurry, or we shall be so late 
that Phoebe will think that we are not com- 
ing,” urged Randy. 

“ Well, if those leaves would hurry, I’d 
hurry, too,” Prue replied, “ but they just 
poke.” 

“ And we are surely poking,” Randy re- 
plied, amused that Prue should make the 
floating leaves an excuse for loitering. 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 223 

They reached the place of appointment, 
a great rock which stood by the roadside, 
in the shadow of the trees, just as Phoebe’s 
patience was waning, and together they hur- 
ried along the road, and Phoebe was all 
smiles, since Randy had not disappointed 
her. 

Mrs. Small had given Phoebe permission 
to choose a hat for herself, saying : 

“ Get what pleases you, only don’t go 
above the price I’ve named,” and the money 
had burned her pocket while she had sat 
upon the rock, impatiently waiting for 
Randy. 

Mrs, Weston very naturally preferred to 
choose her own bonnet, but she had told 
Randy to select hats for herself and Prue, 
and Prue had asserted that she was big 
enough to choose for herself. 

The little millinery “ parlor ” was 
crowded with those who came to purchase, 
and as many more who only called to in- 
spect the stock, and to see what their friends 
and neighbors bought. 


224 


BANDY AND PRUE 


Randy’s choice was quickly made, one of 
the first hats which she tried on having 
pleased her. Prue was more difficult, insist- 
ing upon standing on a chair that she might 
see the glass, and trying on many of the 
hats, finally choosing one designed for some 
tall young woman to wear. 

“ That is hardly suitable for a little girl,” 
said Janie Clifton, laughing merrily at 
Prue, who tipped her head from side to side, 
thus endeavoring to see the hat at all angles. 
It was a “ picture ” hat, a huge affair, with 
masses of large red roses heaped upon it. 

After much persuasion, Prue was induced 
to accept one with a wreath of tiny rosebuds 
about the crown, and although she sighed 
for the showy blossoms, she concluded that 
“ p’raps Randy knew best.” 

Phoebe chose a hat which was adorned 
with poppies, but she wished to have a slight 
alteration in the arrangement of the flowers, 
and while Janie was making the desired 
change in the trimming, her assistant talked 
with other customers, and the girls enjoyed 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 225 
the fun of listening to the comments of the 
crowd which filled the room. Not the least 
forcible of these were Mrs. Hodgkins’ re- 
marks : 

“ Where’s Janie Clifton? ” she demanded, 
as the clerk approached her. 

The girl informed her that Miss Clifton 
was busy trimming, adding: 

“ I am assisting her to-day. What can I 
show you? ” 

“ Do’no’, ’m sure,” remarked Mrs. Hodg- 
kins coolly. “ I can’t tell ye what ter show 
me, ’cause I do’no’ what I want myself, 
though I’ll tell ye one thing ye needn’t show 
me, an’ that’s a bunnit; fer I won’t hev it. 
I’ve worn bunnits all my life, an’ naow I 
want a hat, an’ a showy one, too.” 

The girl brought several for her inspec- 
tion, but although some were quite gaudy, 
Mrs. Hodgkins would have none of them, 
declaring them, each and all, too quiet for 
her taste. Suddenly she espied the large 
hat with the red roses, which had delighted 
Prue, Taking it in her hand, she exclaimed : 


226 


BANDY AND PRTJE 


u There, young woman, I’ll take that 
one, ef ye’ll put a leetle more trimmin’ on 
it.” 

The girl saw that her customer was a 
determined woman, so she wisely refrained 
from mentioning that the hat was already 
elaborately trimmed. 

“ Miss Clifton agrees to make any altera- 
tion which a customer orders,” she answered 
quietly. So in addition to the large red roses 
already on the hat, Mrs. Hodgkins chose a 
cluster of equally large yellow blossoms, and 
a soft pink feather pompon, in the center of 
which some stiff little stems stood smartly 
erect, their ends tipped with crystal beads. 
Evidently Mrs. Hodgkins intended to create 
an impression at church on Sunday. 

Janie Clifton knew that Saturday was a 
busy day for the housekeeper, yet she delib- 
erately chose it for her “ opening,” because 
she believed that many women would rush 
through their work in order to buy a new 
hat for Sunday, and that the school holiday 
would permit the girls to call and be 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 227 

tempted by her exhibition of fascinating 
millinery. 

Mrs. Hodgkins had told her husband to 
call for her in season to pay her bill, and 
just as the saleswoman came from the little 
trimming room with the gorgeous hat, Mr. 
Hodgkins strolled in at the open door and 
crossed the room to where his wife was sit- 
ting. 

“ Wal, did ye find something ter suit ye? ” 
he asked. “ Seems ef most of ’em is pooty 
gay." 

“What! ye didn’t buy that!” he ex- 
claimed, the look of consternation upon his 
meek face causing Randy and Phoebe to 
turn their heads away and frantically en- 
deavor to stifle their laughter. The girls 
were partially hidden by a large form hung 
with many hats, and thus were unob- 
served. 

Mrs. Hodgkins gazed at the hat, then at 
her husband, and smartly said : 

“ Certainly, I did buy that hat, an* I 
bought it ter wear ter meetin’. I’ve worn 


228 BANDY AND PRUE 

bunnits all my life, an’ I made up my mind 
that this time ’twould be a hat.” 

“ Wal, I don’t s’pose there’s any reason 
why ye shouldn’t wear one ef ye want ter, 
but I don’t see ’t ye need ’a’ felt called ter 
hey a bucketful er flowers tied on top, an’ 
a jigglin’ feather a wiggle-wagglin’ ter 
boot.” 

“ Naow, let me tell ye,” Mrs. Hodgkins 
responded, with commendable patience, 
“ fer years ’n years I’ve worn bunnits in 
gray an’ black or braown, an’ then, fer vari- 
ety, I’ve chose braown, er black, er gray, an’ 
I’m tired er the dull ol’ things. This time 
I’ve got red, an’ pink, an’ yaller, an’ I like it, 
but I was that des’prit, I’d a bought it ef I’d 
er hated it ; jest fer a change.” 

Her husband regarded her curiously for 
a moment, then he said, kindly : 

“ I’m glad ye bought it, ef ye like it, an’ 
I do’no ’s I’d object ef ye thought even naow 
that a bit er green an’ purple hitched to it 
somewheres would comfort ye.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins was mollified, and to* 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 229 
get her they left the store, Mr. Hodgkins 
placidly smiling as he thought of his wife’s 
delight in her purchase, and the good 
woman carrying her parcel as if it were a 
fragile thing which might be crushed in 
transportation. 

The sale of millinery had been a success, 
and Janie’s customers had not been limited 
to residents of her own town. The news that 
she had been “ ’prenticed to a Boston 
mill’ner ” had traveled far and wide, with 
the result that the little store could boast a 
long list of patrons from surrounding vil- 
lages. 

Janie had been very busy getting ready 
for her “ opening,” and her dressmaking de- 
partment had been equally “ rushed.” Her 
friends had thought it delightful to make 
little calls at her “ parlors,” and catch a 
glimpse of gowns which were being made, 
and to quiz Janie as to whom they would 
eventually adorn. There seemed to be a 
great mystery in regard to a certain set of 
dresses upon which she was at work, for, 


230 BANDY AND PRUE 

tease as they would, not one of her friends 
could elicit so much as a hint of the name 
of the one for whom they were intended. 

“ Ye tell us who ordered all these other 
gaowns, Janie, so I can’t see why ye’re so 
amazin’ private ’baout these,” said one 
caller, a girl whom Janie Clifton never had 
liked. 

“ It don’t make any odds what I have told 
ye,” Janie replied ; “ this happens ter be one 
thing I haven’t told ye,” and the inquisitive 
one was obliged to depart with her curiosity 
unsatisfied, and Janie worked upon the 
pretty things with renewed energy. 

Her silence regarding the completed 
gowns rendered her curious friends and 
neighbors desperate; but one day the mys- 
tery was solved. 

Cards were out announcing that Joel 
Simpkins and Janie Clifton were to be mar- 
ried at the little parish church, and although 
the date named was an early one, there were 
many who thought that they could with 
difficulty wait for the evening to arrive. 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 231 
Invitations were sent to a sufficient number 
of relatives, intimate friends, neighbors, and 
even acquaintances to fill the church com- 
pletely, and all the uninvited determined to 
be present, a solid phalanx to surround the 
little portico and catch a glimpse of the 
bride. 

Joel and Janie had made their plans for 
the wedding without asking advice from 
their respective families, or following that 
which was not only offered, but thrust upon 
them. 

“ Ye’d orter be kind er keerful, an’ eco- 
nom’cal when ye’re startin’ aout; ’nvitin’ 
the hull taown is reel ’stravagant,” re- 
marked Janie’s cousin Kate, who consid- 
ered herself competent upon all occasions 
to give advice. 

“ Havin’ yer weddin’ in the evenin’ makes 
ye pay fer lightin’ the meetin’ haouse ; folks 
as hopes ter ’cumerlate has got ter com- 
mence sometime” remarked the elder Simp- 
kins. 

Still Janie and Joel kept their own coun- 


232 


BANDY AND PRUE 


sel, neither accepting nor rejecting the sug- 
gestions so freely offered, until one day Joel, 
utterly tired of evading questions, made an 
announcement which aroused the wrath of 
his brother Timotheus, and caused the other 
members of his family to look upon him with 
marked disfavor. 

“ Who be ye goin’ ter hev ter stand up 
with ye? ’though there’s no sense in my 
askin’ ye,” remarked old Mr. Simpkins, 
“ fer ye’d hev ter hev yer brother, fer the 
name of it.” 

“ I’ve already ’nvited my cousin ’Liph’let 
Lamson ter be best man at my weddin’,” 
said Joel, and then he tilted his chair 
against the wall and waited for the torrent 
of disapproval which he knew would de- 
scend upon him. 

Words could hardly describe the disgust 
which his announcement had engendered, 
and when at last he found an opportunity to 
speak, he said : 

“ Wal, ye needn’t be so stirred up ’baout 
it. I asked ’Liph’let ’cause he’s been ter 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 233 
lots er weddin’s an* knows haow ter do the 
thing right. Timotheus ain’t ever been ter 
one, an’ might act green.” 

In his indignation Timotheus made a re- 
ply which silenced his elder brother. 

“ Seein’ ’s ye ain’t been married before, I 
shouldn’t wonder ef ye ’peared a leetle 
gawky yerself,” he said. 

It was true that Timotheus Simpkins had 
not the least idea of the duties which as 
“ best man ” would have devolved upon him, 
but there was one point about which he held 
a decided opinion — that his brother Joel 
had shown marked disrespect in asking his 
cousin instead of his brother to fill the im- 
portant position. 

The more he thought about it, the more 
incensed he became. 

“ I shan’t attend J oel’s weddin’, bein’s he 
see fit ter slight me,” he said. When this 
speech reached Joel’s ears he spoke forcibly: 

“ Wal, I s’pose Timotheus kin do as he 
likes. One thing is settled, my cousin 
’Liph’let ’ll be the best man.” 


234 BANDY AND PRUE 

Then Timotheus at once decided to leave 
home before the day set for the wedding, 
and although his father expostulated, and 
his mother coaxed, he remained firm, and 
early one morning he stood upon the plat- 
form at the little station, an old-fashioned 
valise in one hand, and a large umbrella in 
the other. His scant wardrobe occupied 
one-half of the valise, a quantity of paper 
and quill pens filled the other. Someone 
had informed Timotheus that poets always 
used quills when giving vent to their fancy. 

“ Goin’ away somewheres, Timotheus?” 
queried the station agent, 

“ Yes, I be/’ was the curt reply ; “ I’m 
goin’ West ter stay fer a spell with my uncle. 
There’s more room aout there, I’m told ; the 
country an’ the folks ain’t so narrer as they 
be here, an’ there’s some chance er bein’ 
’dressed as mister, once in a while, ef ye look 
imposin’.” 

“ Sho ! ” remarked the listener ; then as 
Timotheus said “ Good-by ” and boarded 
the train, the agent whistled softly, and 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 235 
said : “ Queer critter, I yum ef he isn’t ! 
Wonder ef they ever seen anything like him 
aout West? ” 

Pfyilury Flanders had been very proud 
and happy to announce that she had been 
especially honored by Janie. 

“ I’m ter stand up with Janie, Mis’ 
Weston,” she exclaimed ; “ think er that ! 
’N I went daown ter try my dress on yester- 
day, ’n I must say I looked so fine in it that 
I paraded baek’ards an’ for’ards in front er 
Janie’s glass ’til she laughed like fury. 

“ ‘ Laugh ! ’ says I, 1 for I don’t mind yer 
laughin’ ; this gaown’s a leetle ahead er any- 
thing I’ve seen fer one while, an’ I want ter 
git a bit used ter it ’fore I wear it ter the 
weddin’. Sakes alive! But it’s got ’nough 
trimmin’ onto it ter turn any girl’s 
head.’ ” 

A wedding in the town was always an 
event which formed a theme for gossip for 
weeks, and even months. As a rule, the 
twain repaired to the parsonage and, es- 
chewing anything so extravagant as a wed- 


236 


BANDY AND PRUE 


ding journey, at once “ settled down ” to the 
everyday life of the farm. 

Judge, then, the excitement a church 
wedding would incite, especially when it 
was learned that the happy pair were to take 
a trip to Boston. 

Mrs. Weston had decided that her best 
black silk would do very nicely if a fresh 
lace collar were added, but she chose a 
charming gown for Randy, saying: 

“ I want ye should look fine at the wed- 
ding, Randy, an* the gaown ’ll come in 
handy afterwards.” 

The Babson girls w r ere greatly excited 
over the new dresses which their father had 
given them permission to order, and the 
Langham twins were placidly happy in the 
possession of frocks made exactly alike. 
While the other girls talked freely of their 
anticipation of the wedding, and the finery 
which they were to wear, Phoebe Small re- 
mained reticent. 

“ Goin’ ter ’stonish the natives, I expect,” 
remarked Dot Marvin ; “ that’s why she 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 


237 


won’t say what she’s goin’ ter wear,” but 
even this speech did not tempt Phoebe to tell 
the style or color of her gown, and curiosity 
regarding it increased accordingly. 

It seemed as if the evening named for the 
ceremony would never come, but like all 
anticipated dates, it did at last arrive, and 
never was there a lovelier evening. 

The tiny church was literally packed with 
invited guests, and scores of curious vil- 
lagers crowded about the entrance, and 
greeted the new arrivals with remarks re- 
garding their personal appearance. 

“ There’s the Langham gals, as like as two 
peas in a pod. I can’t never tell t’other from 
which.” 

“ Oh, look at Phoebe Small ! Ain’t her 
gaown the beater-ee ! ” 

“ There’s Randy Weston ! The Squire’s 
darter’s the beauty er the hull batch.” 

Inside, the little church was all light and 
cheer, and the expectant guests were eagerly 
awaiting the happy pair. The society had 
never owned an organ, but Mrs. Gray had 


238 BANDY AND PRUE 

loaned her piano, and had also promised 

Janie that she would play. 

The wedding party was late, but just as 
Mrs. Gray, for the sixth time commenced the 
introduction to the “ Wedding March,” they 
entered, and promptly every head was 
turned toward the door. Joel’s cousin had 
asked by whom the bride was to be given 
away, and had been curtly informed by the 
groom that “ she was a-goin’ ter give herself 
away, of course,” therefore he had not ques- 
tioned further. 

Just as he entered the church it occurred 
to Joel that he did not know whether he, 
with Janie, should precede the others up 
the aisle, or if ’Liph’let and Philury should 
lead the way. He paused to ask his cousin, 
failed to hear his reply, got out of step with 
Janie, and finally strode up the aisle, his 
bride-to-be obliged to take three steps to 
every one of his, in order to prevent Joel’s 
reaching the altar alone. 

Eliphalet and Philury followed at a rapid 
pace, the latter hiding her face in her 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 239 
bouquet until she could stifle her laugh- 
ter. 

Janie Clifton never looked sweeter than 
in her wedding gown of white muslin, and 
Philury, who had been her dearest friend at 
school, was fairly resplendent in a rose- 
colored muslin with ribbons of the same 
hue. 

Joel Simpkins was much taller than 
Janie, while buxom Philury towered above 
the “ best man,” whose stout figure and 
florid complexion failed to win her approval. 

Parson Spooner beamed upon the couple 
before him, and all went well until the point 
in the ceremony was reached where the ring 
should be forthcoming. 

Joel turned to his cousin, who had prom- 
ised to take charge of it, but Eliphalet was 
thrusting his fingers into one pocket after 
another, flushing painfully as his search 
failed to produce the ring. 

Janie nervously plucked at her bouquet, 
Joel scowled, Philury with difficulty re- 
frained from giggling, when suddenly up 


240 RANDY AND PRUE 

came the ring from a pocket which had 
already been searched three times, and upon 
the floor it dropped, and commenced to roll. 
With a tremendous effort Eliphalet stooped, 
and as he wildly clutched it, he forgot time 
or place, and ejaculated : 

“ I’ve got ye ! ” 

Was it strange that a ripple of suppressed 
merriment swept over the assembled com- 
pany? 

When, however, the ring was placed upon 
Janie’s finger, and Parson Spooner had 
blessed the happy pair, they proceeded down 
the aisle with a deal of dignity, even the irre- 
pressible Philury walking beside Eliphalet 
apparently serene, but inwardly wondering 
if among his long list of cousins, Joel could 
have found one less charming than this most 
awkward of men. 

An informal reception followed the cere- 
mony, and as the Clifton homestead was 
small, the invitations were limited to inti- 
mate friends of the bride and groom. Many 
of the uninvited lingered for a short time at 


A COUNTRY WEDDING 241 
the church to chat with friends and com- 
ment upon the wedding. 

u Janie looked pooty ’nough,” remarked 
an angular female, “ but Philury Flanders 
was what I call bloomin’.” 

“ I didn’t pay much Mention ter the gals,” 
said Josiah Boyden ; “ but I thought I’d 
seen Joel look full ’s well in his everyday 
coat as he did in them store clothes.” 

u That ere ‘ best man/ as they called him, 
’though I don’t see as he was any better than 
Joel, was what I call a reg’lar gawky. I 
guess Timotheus could have done better ’n 
ter drop that ring an’ have ter dive daown 
onto the floor an’ pick it up,” said a young 
farmer, to which Jabez Brimblecom re- 
plied : 

“ Wal, it all come er tryin’ ter git up a 
tumble high-toned weddin’. When my wife 
an’ I was married we didn’t hev no trottin’ 
up ter the pulpit an’ prancin’ back ag’in, no 
1 best man,’ nor no girl with a hull mess er 
ribbons an’ a bokay. We jest went ter the 
minister’s haouse, an’ in five minutes we 


242 RANDY AND PRUE 

were as surely married as ef we’d had a 
high-falutin’ time; ’though ef they’re any 
happier fer all the fuss an’ feathers, why, 
I’m glad they had it.” 

“ I guess we all wish them happiness an’ 
good luck,” said Mrs. Brimblecom; and the 
little party separated, its members going to 
their homes, their hearts filled with 
thoughts of the fortunate couple who were 
to travel “ as far as Boston.” 

Jemima and Belinda Babson talked the 
wedding over long after they should have 
been asleep. 

“ An’ Phoebe’s dress was changeable 
silk,” said Belinda; “ an’ Mis’ Hodgkins 
says it was her ma’s weddin’ gown made 
over,” but the remark was quite lost upon 
Jemima, who was already asleep. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE VILLAGE GOSSIP 

For a few days the gossips amused them- 
selves with discussing the details of the wed- 
ding. Those who had been present described 
things as they were, while the uninvited re- 
lied entirely upon their imagination, and if 
the numberless tales told by the village 
newsmongers failed to agree, there was, at 
least, unlimited variety. 

After a time, however, the excitement 
abated, and many an older person felt as 
Prue did, although few so frankly expressed 
the thought. 

“ Joel and Janie got married, and had a 
big wedding, and everybody was there and 
had a fine time. Now, why don’t somebody 
else do something? I like something to be 
happening all the time,” she said. 

It is a peculiar fact that in a quiet little 
248 


244 BANDY AND PRUE 

village a small event makes a great stir, and 
in the calm which follows, the place seems 
more placid than ever before. 

Only Mrs. Hodgkins clung firmly to the 
“ weddin’ ” as a theme for conversation. 
She could not bear to relinquish it until 
another event should provide a new topic. 

“ I’ve asked Mis’ Clifton ef Janie ’n Joel 
is goin’ further ’n Boston, an she says ‘ no/ 
’n I asked her ef Janie is goin’ ter give up 
her dressmakin’ an’ mill’nery, an’ she says 
‘ no ’ ag’in, an’ says I, ‘ then she’s a-goin’ on 
with them? ’ an she says ‘ yes,’ an’ ye can’t 
get nothin’ out ’n her but ‘ no ’ ’n ‘ yes,’ no 
matter what ye ask, er haow ye ask it. I 
don’t like ter see folks so turrible secretin’. 
Why can’t she speak aout an’ tell a few 
things without waitin’ ter be pumped? I 
must confess she riles me.” 

“ Perhaps Janie asked her mother not to 
say anything about her plans while she is 
away,” said Mrs. Weston, gently, thus 
hoping to defend Mrs. Clifton, but Mrs. 
Hodgkins was not to be pacified. 


THE VILLAGE GOSSIP 


245 


“ Wal, J anie ’d be queer ’nough ef she did 
that. After the way we’ve all patronized 
her, I should think we had a right ter be 
’lowed ter show an int’rest in her, an’ know 
a few of her plans. I know one thing, I’ve 
asked Barnes haow long they’ll be away, an’ 
he says he gave Joel ’til a fortnight come 
Tuesday ter git back ter the store, an’ old 
Mr. Simpkins says their weddin’ trip ’ll 
caount up pooty nigh ont’ a hundred an’ 
twenty-five dollars, as nigh as he can figger 
it, caountin’ in the wages Joel loses whilst 
he’s gone, an’ Janie’s time lost from her 
sewin’ an’ mill’nery. I call that jest fearful 
extravagant, don’t you? ” 

Mrs. Hodgkins asked the question as if 
she felt sure that Mrs. Weston would agree 
with her, but at that moment Philury ap- 
peared in the doorway, and thus it remained 
unanswered. 

“ We’re all aout er bakin’ sody, Mis’ 
Weston, an’ I can’t git Prue ter do the 
arrant,” said Philury, her flushed face 
showing exasperation. 


246 


BANDY AND PRTJE 


“Why, how strange!” said Randy. 
“ Prue is usually delighted to go down to the 
store.” 

“ Til speak to her,” said Mrs. Weston. 
She wondered why her little daughter was 
unwilling to do the errand, but when she 
reached the door the reason was evi- 
dent. 

Johnny Buffum sat upon one end of the 
doorstep, and Hi Babson on the other. They 
were scowling at each other, while Prue, her 
chubby hands clasped behind her back, 
seemed waiting for some momentous point 
to be settled. 

“ Now, Johnny,” she said; “ you ’n Hi ’ll 
have to be nice to each other, and stop look- 
ing cross, else I won’t let either of you go 
down to the store with me.” 

“ I got two cents ter buy lickerish with,” 
said Johnny, with the air of one who is bid- 
ding for favor. 

“ I got three cents, an’ that ’ll buy three 
papers er pink losengers” declared Hi, thus 
offering a better bid. 


THE VILLAGE GOSSIP 247 

Admonished by her mother to go at once 
to the store, she said: 

“ But ’tain’t p’lite to leave ’em here, and 
they won’t both be nice and go, too.” 

“ Naow, Prue, you must go at once an’ do 
the arrant fer Philury,” said Mrs. Weston ; 
then, turning to the two small boys, she 
said : 

“ Hi, you ’n Johnny jest step along, one 
each side er Prue, an’ as she’s got some pen- 
nies, when ye git ter the store ye can all buy 
what ye like, an’ come back here an’ set 
daown under the apple tree in the shade and 
enjoy yer treat. Come, step lively ! ” 

Slowly the two little cavaliers arose from 
the step, and down the path from the door 
yard they trudged, the sweet prospect of un- 
limited “losengers,” “ lickerish,” and Prue’s 
companionship causing them to forget their 
little dispute, and they turned their smiling 
faces toward the Centre. 

While at the door Mrs. Weston urged 
Prue to hasten to the store, Mrs. Hodgkins, 
alone with Randy, grasped the opportunity 


248 BANDY AND PRUE 

to ask a few questions which she believed 

would be truthfully answered. 

“ Is that painter feller cornin’ back ter the 
Smalls’ this summer ter set raound an’ 
sketch?” she asked. 

“ I don’t know,” said Randy. 

Mrs. Hodgkins’ next question was more 
personal. 

“ Is Phoebe gettin’ letters from him, do ye 
know? Some say she is.” 

“ I think Phoebe would not wish me to 
say,” Randy answered, while she heartily 
wished that her mother would come back, 
and so turn Mrs. Hodgkins’ attention, that 
she would forget to question farther. 

“ Wal, wal!” ejaculated Mrs. Hodgkins ; 
“ I do’no’ why she should be so tremenjous 
quiet ’baout it. She seemed ter be jest 
tickled ter death when he talked ter her. I 
didn’t know but she’d hev a kerniption fit ef 
he actooally writ her a letter ; but of course 
ye can’t tell ef she’s told ye not ter. Yer 
what I call reel honorable ter keep close 
what ye ain’t s’pected ter tell, an’ I think 


THE VILLAGE GOSSIP 


249 


well of ye for ’t, but at times I wish yer was 
jest a leetle bit newsy.” 

Randy sat looking down at her pretty 
hands as they lay in her lap. 

“ I’m sorry, Mrs. Hodgkins,” she said ; 
“ but I can’t tell what was told me in con- 
fidence.” 

Mrs. Hodgkins leaned forward and laid 
her hard hand upon Randy’s as she said : 

“ There, there, Randy, of course ye can’t, 
an’ I think well of ye fer sayin’ so, Ef 
Phoebe tells ye her little secrets, ye do well 
ter keep ’em ; but there’s one thing ye 
wouldn’t mind tellin’, an’ as I’m sure ye 
know it, I’ll thank ye to tell me. 

“ Do the Marvins use braown sugar er 
white? Not that / care ter know, but 
Almiry says ‘ braown an’ Mis’ Jenks says 
‘ white an’ I ain’t been daown ter Barnes’ 
ter ask. Silas ’d be sure ter know, bein’ ’s 
he sells ter ’em. Hev ye ever noticed which 
they bought when ye’ve been at the store? ” 

The anxious expression upon her face 
would have impressed one with the idea that 


250 BANDY AND PRUE 

Mrs. Hodgkins’ life hung in the balance 

while she waited for an answer. 

“ l’ye not the least idea what the Marvins 
buy,” said Randy, and in her heart she 
thought, “ and I would not tell you if I 
knew.” 

Just at this point Mrs. Weston returned, 
and a lengthy chat regarding a new cook- 
book which Silas Barnes was selling so 
completely held Mrs. Hodgkins’ attention 
that she forgot that the question as to which 
kind of sugar the Marvins used had not yet 
been settled. 

“ Naow, I think I’m apt ter git my pie- 
crust too dry, usin’ the flaour with a heavy 
hand, so ter speak, an’ I b’lieve I’ll try usin’ 

more water ? n less lard, an’ ” But 

again Philury appeared in the doorway. 

“ Prue’s got back with the sody, Mis’ Wes- 
ton, an’ here’s a letter she brought from the 
office; I think they’re kinder resky givin’ 
letters to a child, don’t you? ” she asked. 

“ It does seem so ; though Prue’s trusty,” 
Mrs. Weston answered. 


THE VILLAGE GOSSIP 


251 


“ Open yer letter,” said Mrs. Hodgkins ; 
“ don’t mind me. I’d jest as soon ye’d read 
it as not.” 

In truth she felt that she could not termi- 
nate her call until that letter had been read. 
She would stay just long enough to learn 
whence it came, and what news it contained. 

“ It is from yer Aunt Prudence, Randy,” 
said Mrs. Weston. 

“ She’s coming back to us in a few weeks, 
and she says, 1 Tell Randy that I’m glad ,to 
hear what a fine housekeeper she’s been, and 
when I reach the farm I’ll see that she has 
leisure for all the pleasure she can crowd 
into next winter. 

“ ‘ Philury and I can keep things hum- 
ming, and Randy shall be as free as she 
chooses.’ ” 

How faithfully Aunt Prudence kept her 
promise may be learned in “ Randy’s Good 
Times.” 





THE RANDY BOOKS 

By AMT BROOKS 

l 2 mo Cloth Artistic cover design in Gold 
and Colors Each finely illustrated by the 
author 

T HE progress of the u Randy Books ” has 
been one continual triumph over the 
hearts of girls of all ages, for dear little fun- 
loving sister Prue is almost as much a central 
figure as Randy, growing toward womanhood 
with each book. The sterling good sense and 
simple naturalness of Randy, and the total 
absence of slang and viciousness, make these 
books in the highest degree commendable, 
while abundant life is supplied by the doings 
of merry friends, and there is rich humor in 
the droll rural characters. No book is more 
anxiously awaited or eagerly called for long 
in advance than a promised new “Randy Book.” 

Randy’s Summer $1.00 

Randy’s Winter $1.00 

Randy and Her Friends $.80, net 

Randy and Prue $.80, net (Ready September /, 1903 ) 


Madge a Girl in Earnest 

By S. Jennie Smith i2mo Cloth Illus- 
trated by James E. McBurney $i,net 

M ADGE is indeed “ a girl in earnest.” 

She scorns the patronage of an aris- 
tocratic relative and takes upon her strong 
young shoulders the problem of carrying 
along the family in an independent manner. 

Her bravely won success, in spite of the 
lions in her path, not the least of which was 
the fear of social disfavor felt by some of 
her family, forms an inspiring tale. An un- 
usual amount of practical information is pre- 
sented in a thoroughly entertaining manner, 
and the character-drawing is remarkably true 
and strong. 


LEE AND SHEPARD BOSTON 





BRAVE HEART SERIES 

By MBELE E. THOMPSON 


Betty Seldon, Patriot 

Illustrated by Lilian Crawford True 
i2mo Cloth 300 pages $1.25 

I T is a great deal to say of a book that it is 
at the same time fascinating and noble. 
That is what “Betty Seldon, Patriot” is. 
Historical events are accurately traced leading 
up to the surrender of Cornwallis at York- 
town, with reunion and happiness for all who 
deserve it. Betty is worth a thousand of the 
fickle coquette heroines of some latter day 
popular novels. 



Brave Heart Elizabeth 



BRAVE HEART 
ELIZABETH 


ADELE E. THOMPSON 


i2mo Cloth Illustrated by Lilian Craw- 
ford True $i, net 

T HIS is a book for older girls, and in 
strength ranks with the best fiction of 
the year. It is a story of the making of the 
Ohio frontier, much of it taken from life, 
and the heroine one of the famous Zane 
family after which Zanesville, O., takes its 
name. As an accurate, pleasing, and yet at 
times intensely thrilling picture of the stir- 
ring period of border settlement, and the 
hardy folk, whose familiarity with danger 
taught a surprising ability to enjoy the bright- 
er side withal, this book surpasses all recent 
writings of its kind. 


Ready September /, 1903 

A Lassie of the Isles $1, net 


LEE AND SH 7 #c&ton 












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